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1914 

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Class. 
Book. 



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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



1 


HOW 
P 


TO BECOME 

U B L I C 


A 


SPEAKER 




SHOWING THE BEST MANNER 


OF ARRANGING 



THOUGHT SO AS TO GAIN CONCISENESS. 
EASE. AND FLUENCY IN SPEECH 



BY 

WILLIAM PITTENGER 



PHILADELPHIA 

THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 

1914 



7N+i 



.7^ 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1886, by 

THE NATIONAL SCHOOL OF ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

in theoSice of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 

Copyright 1914 by Mrs. Wm. Pittenger 



SEP *5 1914 






3k, 



CONTENTS. 



%: 

I. Ckm the Art of Speech be Learned? I 

II. The Four Methods of Public Speech, , 11 

III. An Embryo Speech, with Models, 24 

IV. Initial Fear and How to Overcome it, 40 

V. Utility of Debating Societies, 45 

VI. Thought and Emotion, 51 

VII. Language, 65 

\ III. Imagination, 73 

IX. Voice and Gesture, 7S 

X. Confidence, 89 

XL The Pen and the Tongue, 99 

XII. Subject and Object, 102 

XIIL Thought-Gathering, 113 

XIV. Constructing a Plan, .120 

XV. How shall the Written Plan be Used? 124 

XVI. The First Moment of Speech, 134 

XVII. The Introduction, 143 

KVIII. Progress of the Speech, 154 

XIX. After the Speech, . . . . 1C4 



CHAPTER I. 
Can the Art of Speech be Learned? 

There is a widespread opinion tnat all study of the 
mode of oratory is unmanly , and leads to the substitu- 
tion of artifice and adornment for simplicity and power. 
"Let a man have something important to say/' it is 
argued, " and he need not waste his time in trying to 
find how to say it." So general is this sentiment, that a 
ministerial acquaintance of the writer's was recently very 
careful to conceal from his congregation the fact that he 
was taking a series of lessons in elocution, lest his in- 
fluence should be diminished. 

"We may admit that the popular prejudice against the 
study of eloquence is not without a mixture of reason. 
It is possible to foster a spurious kind of oratory, which 
shall be far inferior to the rudest genuine speech. But 
on the other hand, it is safe to maintain that every 
rational power man possesses can be strengthened by 
judicious cultivation, without in the least impairing its 
quality. There is no trick in true oratory — no secret 
magic by which a weak-minded man can become the 
leader of others stronger and wiser than himself. The 
great prizes of eloquence cannot be placed in the hands 
of the ignorant or slothful. But so surely as a raw ap- 

5 



6 CAN THE ART OF SPEECH BE LEARNED? 

prentice can be transformed into a skillful workman, any 
person possessed of ordinary faculties, who will pay the 
price in labor, can be made master of the art of ready 
and forcible public utterance. 

The methods of oratorical cultivation presented in this 
volume are not based upon mere theory. They have 
been tested in hundreds of instances, and their results are 
beyond question. A carpenter will assert with perfect 
assurance, " I guarantee to take an ordinary young man, 
who will place himself in my hands for a reasonable 
time, and turn him out a thorough mechanic, master of 
every part of his trade." The effects of training are as 
marvelous and as certain in the fields of eloquence. 

But this training must necessarily combine practice 
with theory. To study about great orators and observe 
their works is not sufficient. Here again, we may take 
a lesson from the mode in which an apprentice is trained. 
The master architect does not take his young men to 
gaze upon finished buildings, and expect them, from 
mere admiration and architectural fervor, to construct 
similar works. He would soon find that not one in a 
hundred had the u mechanical genius " for such an easy 
triumph. But he takes them into the shop, where work 
is in progress, places before them some simple task, and 
from that leads them on, step by step, to more difficult 
achievements. They learn how to make the separate 
parts of a house, and afterward how to fit those parts 



CAN THE ART OF SPEECH BE LEARNED? 7 

into a complete work. Under this rational mode of in- 
struction the great majority master the whole business 
placed before them, and the failures are rare exceptions. 
If similar success does not attend oratorical students, the 
explanation must be sought, not in the nature of oratory, 
but in wrong methods of training. Merely reading 
Cicero and Demosthenes, even in their original tongues, 
declaiming choice selections, or listening to great orators, 
will not make any one eloquent, unless indeed he pos- 
sesses that rare natural genius which rises above all 
rules and sweeps away every obstacle. 

But it must be remembered that there are many de- 
gree? of eloquence. The popular conception is somewhat 
unjust in refusing recognition to those who possess this 
power in only a fair degree. It is not possible by any 
mode of training to produce many orators of the very 
highest type. Such will ever be rare for the same reason 
that there are but few great poets, generals, or statesmen. 
But proper education in the art of speech should enable 
a man to give full, free, and adequate expression to what- 
ever thoughts and feelings he may possess. It may go 
further, and make him more fruitful in thought, and 
more intense in feeling, than he could have been in the 
absence of such education, and he may thus become fairly 
entitled to the rewards of eloquence without, however, 
reaching the level of the few great world-orators. The 
clsiinction between a good degree of practical, working 



8 CAN THE ART OF SPEECH BE LEARNED? 

eloquence, which may be successfully taught to the mass 
of students, and the very highest development of the 
same faculty, should always be kept in mind. Even the 
mightiest genius may be regulated, strengthened, and 
directed by culture; while moderate talents may, by 
similar culture, reach a very serviceable degree of effi- 
ciency and power. 

While these considerations appear almost self-evident, 
they are not unnecessary. On listening to a true orator 
— one who, without hesitation, pours forth a stream of 
well-chosen words, and develops a difficult subject in a 
clear and masterly manner — we are apt to receive an 
impression like that made by the operation of a law of 
nature, or an unerring animal instinct. Does the orator 
acquire eloquence as the bee learns to construct honey- 
cells ? There is, no doubt, a foundation for eloquence in 
natural ability, but the analogy is far more close with 
the human builder, who sees mentally the image of the 
house he wishes to construct, fits the various timbers and 
other materials into their places, and works intelligently 
until his conception is realized. To Jack Cade and his 
fellows the mysteries of reading and writing " came by 
nature ;" but experience has shown that this much of 
nature can be developed in the great majority of American 
children. In the moderate and reasonable meaning of 
the term, eloquence can be made almost as general as the 
elements of a common-school education. The child that 



CAiS r THE ART OF SPEECH BE LEARNED? 8 

masters the art of reading, really makes a greater eon- 
quest over difficulties, than the average well-educated 
youth needs to add to the stores he already possesses, in 
order to attain a good degree of oratorical power. There 
are, indeed, a few indispensable requisites which will be 
understood by every person; but the want of these 
debars a small minority only, and their absence is easily 
recognized. For all others the path of success lies open. 
Patient practice in the use of the pen as a servant but 
not as a master, the study of good models, and the 
laborious mastery in detail of the separate elements of 
oratory, will not fail of abundant fruit. 

There are two classes of works with which this treatise 
should not be confounded. It aims to occupy an almost 
vacant place between manuals of elocution on the one 
hand, and works of technical instruction in the various 
oratorical professions, on the other. Both of these classes 
of books are very useful, and teach indirectly many of 
the elements of true eloquence. Elocution deals with 
voice and gesture, which are prime elements in oratory ; 
and although it is popularly supposed to be applicable 
only to reading and recitation, it is equally serviceable in 
off-hand speech. Works of the second class give rules 
for preaching, debating, pleading at the bar, teaching, 
and all other professions which involve public speech. 
They show how various kinds of discourses may be con- 
structed, but have few practical directions about the 



10 CAN THE ART OF SPEECH BE LEARNED? 

mode of delivery, or that grand and noble work— tha 
development of the oratorical power itself. 

This book is written from the standpoint of the student 
who wishes to wield the golden sceptre of eloquence and 
is willing to put forth all reasonable efforts to that end. 
It will aim to guide him into the right path ; show him 
what helps are available, and what discipline is necessary; 
encourage him in overcoming difficulties, and stimulate 
him to seek the very highest excellence within the com 
pass of his faculties. 



CHAPTER n. 

The Four Methods of Public Speech — Theib 
Advantages and Disadvantages. 

" What shall I do ?" exclaims the young student who 
expects soon to face public audiences. " Shall I write 
out what I have to say, polish it as highly as possible, 
and then utter this finished product? Or must I take 
the risk of being able to say nothing at all, in hope of 
gaining the ease and naturalness of spontaneous speech ¥' 

It must be admitted that the first course indicated 
above has many advantages, and seems in harmony with 
the marked tendency of civilization toward division of 
labor. It is hard to perform several different operations 
at the same moment. Look how heavily the extempore 
speaker is burdened. He must think of his subject; 
arrange his ideas, sentences, and words ; remember quo- 
tations ; originate proper tones and gestures ; and keep 
his attention closely fixed upon his audience. All this 
he must do with the utmost promptness and regularity, 
or incur a fearful penalty — that of embarrassment and 
failure. Few men have the courage to stand long before 
an audience, waiting for a missing word or idea. To 
avoid this danger the mind of an extempore speaker 
must be accustomed to work with the rapidity and pre- 

11 



J 2 FOUR METHODS OF SPEECH. 

cision of a printing-press; otherwise, the appalling 
danger of failure and ridicule will constantly stare him 
in the face. It is not wonderful that such perils have 
made many speakers perpetual slaves of the pen. 

But it may be noted that the public reader has an 
equal number of things to do at the same moment. He 
must look on the manuscript and recognize the words — a 
complicated process, which practice has made easy, but 
which does greatly distract attention. The whole dis- 
course must be brought into mind as really as if extem- 
porized with the difference that now, instead of arising 
from within, it is brought back from without — a much 
more difficult achievement. Tones and gestures are also 
increasingly difficult . The reader will usually wish to give 
some attention to the audience, which, with manuscript 
before him, will be far from easy. After he has done 
his best his hearers will think, " This man is reading, 
not speaking — giving us w^hat he thought yesterday or 
last week, not what he is thinking now." Possibly 
this will not diminish their pleasure, but the sentiment 
needs to be recognized. 

The resource of memorizing the discourse after it has 
been prepared relieves the eye and lessens the physical 
distraction, but it throws an additional and very heavy 
burden upon the mind, and introduces new embarrass- 
ments peculiar to itself. 

The advice enforced in these pages will be : " Extern- 



FOUR METHODS OF SPEECH. 11 

porize; take the risk; fail, if necessary " though precau- 
tions will be given making failure well nigh impossible ; 
" but in all cases when you speak to the people with the 
object of convincing or persuading, let it be seen that 
j*ou speak directly the thoughts and feelings of that 
very moment." 

The two extremes of verbal communication between 
men are letters, books, or essays, on the one side, and 
desultory talk on the other. In the one, the pen is 
everything; in the other, it is not employed at all. 
Neither mode of address constitutes oratory, but the 
whole field of this art lies between them. 

There are four principal methods of discourse dis- 
tinguished in reference to the mode of delivery, which 
we may name as follows : 

1. Reading. 

2. Recitation. 

3. Extemporizing. 

4. The composite method. 

Of these, the first two have the great advantage of 
allowing the speaker as much time as may be necessary 
for the arrangement of the speech down to the minutest 
detail. Words may be selected with the nicest care, and 
if the first effort is not satisfactory the speech may be 
written again and again, until the writer's full power has 
been utilized. After delivery, the manuscript is at once 
available for publication or preservation. The first 



i4 FOUR METHODS OF SPEECH. 

method gives the orator something to lean upon. Should 
he become embarrassed, he can fix his attention closely 
upon his writing until he recovers. Should his attention 
be distracted, and the thread of discourse be broken, it 
can be taken up again at any point. 

In recitr ' n more declamatory fervor is possible than 
in reading. Gesticulation is less restrained. The speaker 
need not be confined within the narrow limits of a circle, 
the centre of which is his manuscript, and the radius the 
distance at which he can read it. 

As an offset, there is the effort, in some cases very con- 
siderable, of memorizing ; the variable power of memory 
in different states of health ; and the possibility of alto- 
gether forgetting the prepared words. It must also be 
admitted that few men can declaim well. Some have 
mastered the difficult art, and have won laurels in this 
way ; but their number, especially in the modern w r orld, 
is comparatively small. 

Extemporizing does not exclude the most exhaustive 
study of a subject. It is easier, indeed, to write upon a 
subject only partially understood, than to address axi 
audience directly upon the same topic. Neither does 
this method exclude the most careful pre-arrangement of 
the thoughts enunciated. The trained speaker will find 
it comparatively easy to make a plan at a moment's 
notice w T hich will serve as a basis for discourse ; but he 
will usually be provided with a plan long before he 



FOUR METHODS OF SPEJECH. 1& 

begins to speak. He will aim to understand his subject, 
make the best arrangement of it in his power, select what 
is most fitting for his purpose, and then, face to face 
with his audience, will give them, in a manly way, the 
outflowing of his mind and heart. It is in this sense 
alone that the word " extempore " will be used in this 
volume. We maintain that, so far from being the refuge 
of ignorance and sloth, extempore speech is often the 
vehicle of the widest culture and the most extensive 
knowledge. 

The increased attention paid to extempore speech 
within a few years indicates a hopeful improvement of 
taste among professional men. The majority of the 
people have always preferred it. They do not greatly 
desire of pulpit, platform, or bar, the verbal elaboration 
favored by written speech ; but fervent manner, earnest 
conviction, and directness are highly prized. Readers 
and reciters imitate, as far as they can, the manner of 
spontaneous speech. It is well to remember that this 
tribute of imitation is never paid by the superior to the 
inferior. 

One argument in favor of extempore delivery has 
never received due consideration :. it is far more healthful 
than other forms of address. In the case of- men who 
speak only at long intervals, this consideration may not 
be weighty ; but to others, it involves years of added 
'Usefulness, or even life itself. 



16 FOUR METHODS OF SPEECH. 

This superior healthfulness has often been observed, 
but what is its source ? The answer will go far to show 
why true extempore speech is more persuasive and emo- 
tional than any other variety. In chemistry, a law 
of affinity has long been recognized, according fc> which 
substances just set free from combination have greater 
energy, and are more ready to form new combinations, 
than ever afterward. In the same way, voice and gesture 
readily respond to nascent emotion ; that is, to emotion 
aroused for the first time. Every speaker who utters 
the thought of the moment, if not fettered by bad habits, 
or paralyzed by fear, will exhibit a perpetual change of 
position, a variety of muscular movement, and a play of 
expression which he can never afterward reproduce. 
The pitch, rate, and force of the voice are controlled in 
the same effective and almost automatic manner. An 
ordinary extemporizer, when thoroughly aroused, will 
employ as great a variety of tones and gestures as a 
highly trained elocutionist in his most elaborate recita- 
tions. Nothing is asserted as to the skill of the combi- 
nations, the melody of the voice, or the grace of the action; 
though even in these the advantage is not always on the 
side of the elocutionist. But in distributing the effort 
among all the organs, and in giving that alternate rest 
and action upon which health and strength depend, the 
elocutionist may strive in vain to equal the model set him 
by a good extempore speech. In Western and seaside 



FOUR METHODS OF SPEECH. IV 

samp-meetings, speakers who have never spent an hoar 
m vocal drill will often address thousands of people in the 
open air with an energy of voice and manner that would, 
if employed over a manuscript by any other than the most 
accomplished elocutionist, speedily bring all efforts and 
the speaker himself to an end. But he easily endures 
the strain because there is that continual change which 
is the equivalent of rest. Notice some thoroughly ex- 
cited speaker, trained only in the school of experience— 
possibly a mere demagogue or popular agitator — at his 
work. A word shot forth almost as piercing as a steam 
whistle is followed by a sentence far down the scale, and 
when emotion demands the same high key again, the 
organs in that position are fresh for a new ear-piercing 
effort. There is equal variation in the rate of speech. 
The whole body joins in the expression of emotion, with- 
out the slightest conscious effort, impelled only by the 
aroused nervous energy which seeks that mode of dis- 
charge. When the effort ends, the man is w^eary, indeed ; 
but with a weariness distributed over the whole body, and 
without a trace of that exhaustion of brain, throat, or the 
upper part of the lungs, which has sent many manuscript 
speakers — clergymen, especially — to untimely graves. 

What a difference there is between the preacher who 
languidly reads his manuscript for twenty-five minutes 
to a hundred people, and closes the mighty effort with 
aching head^ quivering nerves, and exhausted throat, and 



IS FOUR METHODS OF SPEECH. 

the typical camp-meeting orator ! The latter works hard, 
addressing thousands of people for an hour and a half 
or two hours ; but as the stamping foot, the tense arm, 
the nodding head, the fully expanded lungs, and the 
SAvaying body have all taken part, the blood and nervous 
energy have been sent in due proportion to every organ, 
and there is no want of balance. The man can repeat 
the same performances the next day, and continue it, as 
many itinerants have done, for months together. Similar 
examples of endurance have often been given in heated 
political canvasses by orators of the very highest emi- 
nence, as well as by others unknown to fame. Difference 
of cultivation or of earnestness will not suffice to ex- 
plain the contrast between the two classes of speakers. 

The chemical analogy is instructive, and goes far to 
account for the observed differences. When thought 
passes out of the mist and shadow of general concep- 
tions into the definite form of words, it has immeasurably 
greater power to arouse and agitate the mind in which 
this transformation is made, than it can have when the 
same words are merely recalled in memory or read from 
a sheet of paper. When the whole process of expression 
takes place at once: — the mental glance over the subject °, 
the coinage of thoughts into words and sentences ; the 
utterance of the words as they rise to the lips ; the selec- 
tion of key, inflection, emphasis, gesture: — the man must 
have a very cold nature, or his theme be very dull, if, 



FOUR METHODS OF SPEECH. 



19 



with a sympathizing audience before him, the tides of 
emotion do not begin to swell. But notice how other 
modes of delivery squander this wealth of emotion. The 
writer carefully elaborates his language. He is perfectly 
calm, or if there is any excitement, it is purely intel- 
lectual, and the, quickened flow of blood is directed only 
to the brain. When the ardor of composition subsides, 
and he reviews his pages, the fire seems to have died out 
of them. While memorizing, or making himself familial 
enough with what he has written to read it with effect, 
he may recall some of the first ardor, but only to have 
it again subside. When at last he stands up to speak, 
his production is a thrice-told tale. In but few cases 
will he feel the full inspiration of his message. If he 
recites, the effort of memory distracts his attention, and 
he is probably reading from a page of manuscript pre- 
sented by his mental vision. If he reads directly, he 
must take a position to see his paper, and at least part of 
the time keep his eye fixed upon it. The address is 
felt to come, notwithstanding all the artifice he can 
employ, at least as much from the paper as from the 
man. The most profound culture in reading and decla- 
mation only suffices to bring back part of the emotion 
with which the genuine extemporizer starts. 

As bearing upon the subject of the healthfulness of 
extempore speech, a reference to the writer's own ex- 
perience may not be improper. Severe and exceptional 



20 FOUK METHODS OF SPEECH. 

hardship in the civil war led to a complete break-down 
in health. The hope of any kind of active work, or 
*?ven of many months of life, seemed very slight. The 
. question was not so much how to speak best, as how to 
speak at all. Fortunately, a long series of daily lectures, 
involving no great intellectual effort, proved that mere 
talking was not necessarily hurtful. Some elocutionary 
hints at the right time were also of great value. When 
the pulpit was entered, greater difficulty arose. A few 
trials of memorized preaching produced alarming nervous 
exhaustion. Reading was equally deleterious to throat 
and voice. One path alone seemed open ; and entering 
upon that with confidence, which eighteen years of ex- 
perience has only deepened, the writer found that ex- 
tempore speech was, for him, probably the most healthful 
of all forms of exercise. It is not likely that one-third 
of this term of work would have been secured by any 
other kind of address. 

Another important advantage is the saving of time 
afforded by this mode of speech. The hours otherwise 
wasted in word-elaboration may be more usefully em- 
ployed in general studies. The field for an orator's im- 
provement is boundless ; but if obliged to fully write a 
large number of discourses, he must either work very 
rapidly or very perseveringly to enter far into that field. 
But if less preparation is given to individual speeches, 
'nore time will be available for the improvement of the 



FOUK METHODS OF SPEECH. 21 

speaker. Or if he uses the same length of preparation 
for each discourse in the extempore mode, he can collect 
and classify a far greater amount of material, and the 
mental element will thus gain far more than the merely 
verbal loses. 

Only the fourth or composite method of discourse 
remains for our consideration. At first glance, it seems 
to combine the advantages of all other methods, and for 
many minds it possesses great attraction. In it the less 
important parts of the speech are given off-hand, while 
passages of especial brilliancy or power are written fully, 
and either read or recited. Added variety may be given 
by reading some of these, and declaiming others from 
memory. A very brilliant and showy discourse may 
thus be constructed. But the difficulties are also very 
great. Full success requires a rare combination of de- 
sirable qualities. A good verbal memory, the power of 
composing effective fragments, and of declaiming or 
reading them well, are not often joined to all the qualities 
that make a ready and impressive extemporizer. For 
this reason it usually follows that in composite discourses 
one of the elements so greatly predominates as to dwarf 
the others. A manuscript discourse in which an extem- 
pore remark or two is interpolated must be classed with 
written discourses. Neither does extemporizing lose its 
special character, though some scattered quotations ba 
read or repeated from memory. To pick up a book, in 



22 FOUR METHODS OF SPEECH. 

the midst of a speech, and read a theme or argument, ox 
the statement of another's position, does not make the 
discourse composite in character, unless such reading be 
the principal part of it. An eloquent speaker on one 
occasion occupied more than half his time, and produced 
far more than half his effect, by reciting poems of the 
author who was the nominal subject of his lecture. The 
performance would have been more appropriately styled, 

" Recitations from the poems of ." The few 

running comments introduced did not entitle it to be 
classed as an original production, because they were 
obviously not its governing motive. 

How shall the advantages of extemporizing be secured, 
while avoiding its dangers ? No commendation can be 
given to those who simply talk to an audience, giving 
forth only what may happen to be in mind at the moment 
of delivery. The most pedantic writing and lifeless 
reading would, as a habit, be preferable to such reckless- 
ness. Unwritten speech does not preclude the fullest 
preparation. The plans advocated in this volume will 
enable a speaker to gather materials as widely, arrange 
them as systematically, and hold them as firmly in hand, 
as if every word was written ; while at the same time he 
may have all the freedom and play of thought, the rush 
of passion, and the energy of delivery that comes in the 
happiest moment of outgushing words. But those who 
are unwilling to labor may as well lay down the book. 



FOLK METHODS OF SPEECH. ^o 

We do not profess to teach a process of labor-saving, 
though much labor will be changed from mechanical to 
intellectual, and after long experience the total saving 
may be great. But in the first stages those who have 
been accustomed to write in full will find that the 
change involves an increase, rather than a diminution, 
of w r ork. 



CHAPTER III. 

An Embryo Speech, with Models of Veky Simple 

Plans. 

The first extemporaneous speeches attempted should be 
of the simplest character. Too high an ideal formed at 
the outset may be very harmful by causing needless 
discouragement. To speak freely in any manner, how- 
ever rude, until confidence and the power of making 
every faculty available are acquired, should be the first 
great object. Many persons are slaves of bad habits 
through life because they began wrong. Nothing harms 
an orator more than cultivating his critical taste far 
beyond his power of ready utterance. There is no 
necessary relation between the development of the two 
things. To become a fine word-critic and master of an 
excellent written style does not imply the power to strike 
off finely finished sentences at the speed of the tongue ; 
but it does tend to render the speaker dissatisfied with 
anything below the level of his written performances, 
and thus checks his fluency. To master the difficult art 
of written composition first, and strive afterward to gain 
a similar proficiency in spoken words, is a complete 
reversal of the natural method, and in all but a few 
gifted minds puts a premium on failure. An unlettered 

24 



AN EMBRYO SPEECH, 25 

rustic may speak with perfect ease, because he is not 
conscious of the numberless verbal blunders he falls into ; 
but if it were possible, by some process of spiritual infu- 
sion, to put him in possession of a fine, critical taste, he 
would be instantly smitten dumb. 

The true method is to cultivate the faculty of extem- 
porization side by side with critical judgment. In case 
that is done, ease and confidence will not be for a 
moment disturbed. It thus appears that while an ex- 
tempore speaker can never know too much, it is quite 
possible for his knowledge and cultivation to advance in 
the wrong order. The pen will be of perpetual use to 
the speaker ; but his command of it must not increase 
so rapidly in proportion as to make him ashamed of his 
tongue. 

From this reasoning it follows that the best time to 
lay the foundation of excellence in speech is very early in 
life. Speeches made then are necessarily flimsy and rudi- 
mentary, but they are not the less valuable on that 
account. They are to be estimated not for their own 
worth, but for their results upon the mind producing 
them. The schoolboy's first " composition " has always 
been a mark for cheap witticism ; but the boy himself 
regards it with justifiable pride, as the first step in the 
noble work of putting thought on paper. The same 
pains and patience applied to the art of public talk- 
ing as to written composition will produce equal fruit. 



26 AN EMBRYO SPEECH. 

A few directions intended to aid in overcoming some 
of the initial difficulties of speech, which may serve 
as suggestions to teachers as well as helps to solitary 
students, are here appended. They are purposely made 
of almost ludicrous crudeness, but will not, it is trusted, 
be less serviceable on that account; for it is not so 
important to aid the mature speaker in giving the last 
fine strokes of genius to a masterly oration, as it is to 
stimulate and guide beginners in their first stammering 
utterances. 

The simplest oration or formal address that can be 
constructed has three distinct parts. With these we 
will begin the great work of division and arrangement. 
They may be named as follows : 

1. The Introduction. 

2. The Discussion. 

3. The Conclusion. 

On this framework a speech-plan can be constructed 
simple enough for any child. And it is at the same 
time true that even a child, with such a plan, might 
speak appropriately who would otherwise not be able to 
begin at all. 

We will consider these three parts in their order. 

The introduction is at once important and embarrass- 
ing. First words are nearly always heard attentively, 
and they do much to determine the degree of attention 
that will be bestowed on the remainder of the speech. 



AN EMBRYO SPEECH. 27 

The young speaker should select something as an intro- 
duction upon which his mind can fasten, instead of 
dwelling upon the frightful generality of the naked 
theme. Neither is it hard to construct a good introduc- 
tion if a few plain directions are heeded, which will be 
more fully given in a succeeding chapter. All persons 
feel the need of some kind of a formal opening, and 
therefore often begin with an apology — the very worst 
form of an introduction, because it is not interesting in 
itself and does not lead up to the subject. 

In rudimentary speech, which we are now considering, 
the introduction should be simple, and, above everything 
else, easy for the speaker to comprehend and remember. 
If there is anything in the whole world which he is sure 
he can talk about for a few moments, and which can be 
made to have a moderate degree of connection with his 
subject, let that be chosen for an opening. If it is also 
vivid and striking in itself, and familiar to the audience, 
so much the better ; but this quality should not be in- 
sisted upon in these first attempts. 

When the introductory topic is selected it should be 
turned over in the mind until the speaker knows just 
what he is going to say about it. This process will have 
a wonderfully quieting effect upon his nerves. He has 
fairly mastered something, and knows that at all events 
he can begin his speech. It is well to make a note of 
this introduction in a few simple words which w T ill 



28 AN EMBRYO SPEECH. 

strongly fasten themselves in the memory. No effort 
toward elaboration should be made, for that would 
naturally lead to a memorized introduction, and either 
require the whole speech to be written, or produce a 
painful and difficult transition. 

The discussion deals directly with the subject or 
central idea of the discourse. Here a clear statement of 
at least one thought which the speaker can fully grasp 
should be made. The pen (or pencil) may be used in 
preparation without impropriety. If but one idea is 
thought of, let that be written in the fewest and strongest 
words at the student's command. While doing this it is 
likely that another and related thought will spring into 
mind which can be treated in the same manner. With 
diligent students there may even be a danger of getting 
down too many seed-thoughts. But that contingency is 
provided for in the chapters on the fully developed plan, 
and needs no further notice at this time. 

When this central division is completely wrought out, 
two other points claim attention. How shall the transi- 
tion be made from the introduction to the discussion ? 
A little reflection will show how to glide from one to the 
other, and that process should be conned over, without 
writing, until it is well understood. It is wonderful 
how many outlines of ideas the memory will retain 
without feeling burdened ; and this power of retention 
grows enormously through exercise. 



AN EMBRYO SPEECH. 29 

After this, the mode of gliding from the discussion to 
the conclusion may be treated in the same manner, and 
with equal profit. The conclusion itself is scarcely less 
material than the introduction ; but there is much less 
range of choice in the manner of closing than in that of 
beginning. The subject is before the audience, and any 
wide departure from it seems like the beginning of a new 
speech — something not usually well received. There is 
this distinction between, the relative value of introduction 
and conclusion: a good introduction adds most to a 
speaker's ease, confidence, and power during the moment 
of speech ; but a good conclusion leaves the deepest per- 
manent impression upon the audience. It is usually 
remembered longer than any other part of the address. 

When a discourse has been prepared in this simple 
manner it has virtually five parts — three written and 
two held in memory. From such an outline it is far 
more easy to make an address than from the bare an- 
nouncement of a theme. It is true that all these parts 
may be formed and held in mind without ever making 
a pen-stroke. A practiced orator will do this, in a 
moment, when unexpectedly called upon ; or he may only 
forecast the introduction and trust to finding the plan as 
fast as it is needed. But in this he is no model for imi- 
tation by beginners. Even powerful orators sometimes 
spoil the whole effect of a good address by an unfor- 
tunate mode of closing. They may forget to close in 



30 AN EMBRYO SPEECH. 

time— a grievous fault ! — or may finish with some weak 
thought or extravagant proposition, by which the whole 
speech is mainly judged and all its good points neu=* 
iralized. The construction of even as simple a plan as 
here indicated would have more than double the effect 
of many speeches made by great men. 

A few simple and rude plans are annexed. No merit 
is sought for in any one of them beyond making plain 
the method recommended. 

PLANS OF SPEECHES. 

EXAMPLE FIKST. 

Subject. — Chinese Emigration to America. 

Introduction. — The number of emigrants to 
our country and the nations they represent. 
[A totally different and more effective introduction 
might be the description of a group of Chinese as seen 
by the speaker.] 

Discussion. — The nature, amount, and present 
effect of Chinese emigration. 
[It is possible for the speaker in his introduction to 
foreshadow the position he expects to maintain in his 
speech ; or he may make a colorless introduction and 
reserve his opinion for the discussion. The material 
under this head is unlimited. It is only necessary from 
the oratorical stand-point that the speaker should deter- 
mine what course to take, and then carefully think out 
in advance or read— for history and statistics cannot be 



AN EMBRYO SPEECH. Si 

improvised — all about that which he intends to use. 
When he can tell it all over easily to himself he may 
reasonably feel assured of his ability to tell it to others. 
The various arguments should be weighed and the best 
selected. That which most naturally connects with the 
introduction should be firmly fixed in the mind as the 
first, that it may form the bridge from the one part to 
the other.] 

Conclusion. — Results of policy advocated, either 
predicted, described, or shown to be probable. 
Mode of remedying evils that might be appre- 
hended from that policy. 

[In the conclusion the speaker may take upon himself 
the character of a prophet, poet, or logician. He may 
predict results and let the statement make its own 
impression. He may put all emphasis upon a vivid 
painting of the future colored by the views he advocates ; 
or he may sum up his reasons, deduce consequences, and 
weigh alternatives. The choice between these different 
modes may be made instinctively, or it may require con-~ 
siderable mental effort, but when made, the best mode of 
transition will be very easily found.] 

In all this process, w^hich in the case of undisciplined 
speakers may extend over many days of hard work, the 
pen may be used freely, making copious - notes • of facts 
and arguments. ' After enough has been accumulated 
and put in such shape that the speaker can easily look 
over- the entire field, he is ready for another process— * 
that of simplifying his plan. Rough and copious notes 



32 AN EMBRYO SPEECH. 

brought with him to the platform would only be a source 
of embarrassment. But the germ of his ideas, which 
are now familiar, can be put into very small compass. 
Perhaps the following would recall everything in the 
preceding outline : 

The Chinese Question. 

1. Experience. 

2. Arguments. 

3. Results. 

But it is clear that a skeleton containing only three 
words need not be kept in view. The whole outline of 
the speech will therefore be in the mind. If numerous 
figures or citations from authorities are employed, they 
may be classified and read from books or notes, as needed. 
Such reading in na way detracts from the extempora- 
neous character of the address, though if too numerous 
they tend to damp oratorical fire and break the unity of 
discourse. One who has had no personal experience, or 
who has not carefully observed the methods of other 
speakers, can scarcely imagine how much a simple out- 
line, such as here suggested, accomplishes in removing 
the confusion, fear, and hesitation which characterize 
beginners. 

Another specimen^ not of controversial character, i£ 
subjoined. 



AN EMBBYO SPEECH. 33 

EXAMPLE SECOND. 

Subject. — The Ocean. 

Introduction. — The vastness of the ocean. 
No one person has seen more than a small part 
of it. Power evidenced by storm and ship- 
wrecks. 

Discussion. — Five great divisions of the ocean. 
Use in nature, watering and tempering the 
land ; in commerce, as a highway ; in history, by 
dividing and uniting nations ; its mystery, etc. 

Conclusion. — Proof of the Creator's power 
and wisdom found in the ocean. 

The Same Plan Condensed. 

Subject. — The Ocean. 

1. Vastness and Power. 

2. Parts, Use, and Mystery. 

3. Evidence. 

Dean Swift's Sermon. 

This eccentric clergyman once preached a sermon shor- 
ter than its own text, yet having all the three parts of 
which we have spoken. The text was Prov. xix, 20: 
" He that pitieth the poor lendeth to the Lord ; and 
that which he hath given will He pay him again." 

The sermon was : 

" Brethren, you hear the condition ; if you like the 
security, down with the dust," 



34 AN EMBRYO SPEECH. 

The collection is said to have been munificent. 

In this short sermon the text with the word " Breth- 
ren" constitutes the introduction ; the phrase, " you heal 
the condition ," is a good transition to the discussion 
contained in the next member, " if you like the security/' 
which assumes the truth of the text, makes its general 
declarations present and personal, and prepares the way 
for the forcible and practical, if not very elegant, con- 
clusion, " down with the dust." 

Among the many speeches found in Shakespeare, the 
existence of these three essential parts may easily be 
noted. The funeral speeches over the dead body of Julius 
Csesar afford an excellent example. The merit of the 
orations of Brutus and Antony are very unequal, but 
both are instructive. We will analyze them in turn. 

Brutus speaks first. He shows his want of apprecia- 
tion of the true nature of persuasive eloquence by 
declaring that this will be an advantage. His introduc- 
tion is also too long and elaborate for the work he has in 
hand. The central thought with which he opens is in 
substance, "I am worthy of your closest attention.'-' 
This cannot be considered a fortunate beginning, and it 
would have been fatal for any one less highly esteemed 
by the people than "the well-beloved Brutus." He 
Bays: 

Brittus' Speech. 

"Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for my 



AN EMBRYO SPEECH. o5 

cause, and be silent that you may hear ; believe me for 
mine honor, and have respect to mine honor that you 
may believe ; censure me in your wisdom and awake 
your senses that you may the better judge." 

This introduction is a master-piece of Shakespeare's 
art, because it pictures so well the character of Brutus 
in his dignity and blind self-confidence ; but for Brutus 
it is unfortunate, because it puts him on the defensive 
and makes the people his judges. He must now plead 
well, or they will condemn him. 

In the discussion the thought simply is, "I was 
Caesar's friend, and therefore you may well believe that 
I would not have killed him if he had not deserved 
death because of his ambition." This is the whole 
argument, and it is weak because it does not prove the 
ambition of Caesar, or show that ambition on Caesar's 
part was a crime which Brutus had a right to punish 
with death. The antithetic sentences lack both logic and 
passion. As they touch neither head nor heart, they 
can have but slight and momentary effect. Notice the 
discussion as an example of fine words which do not 
serve their purpose. 

" If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of 
Caesar's, to him I say that Brutus' love to Caesar was 
no less than his. If, then, that friend demand why 
Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer : Not that 
I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had 



36 AN EMBRYO SPEECH. 

you rather Caesar were living, and die all slaves, than 
that Caesar were dead, to live all freemen? As Caesar 
loved me, I weep for him ; as he was fortunate, I rejoice 
at it ; as he was valiant, I honor him ; but as he was 
ambitious, I slew him. There are tears for his \ove 3 joy 
for his fortune, honor for his valor, and death for his 
ambition. Who is here so base that would be a bond- 
man ? If any, speak ; for him have I offended. Who 
is here so rude, that would not be a Roman ? If any, 
speak ; for him have I offended. Who is here so vile 
that will not love his country? If any, speak; for 
him have I offended? I pause for a reply." 

As several citizens cry out, " None, Brutus, none," he 
passes to the conclusion, which is as weak as the discus- 
sion. 

" Then none have I offended. I have done no more 
to Caesar, than you shall do to Brutus. As I slew my 
best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger 
for myself, when it shall please my country to need my 
death." 

He has gained nothing by the whole speech, save the 
knowledge that none of the citizens present care at that 
time to impeach him for his crime; but their minds 
were open to other influences. Shakespeare thus shows 
how an able man might use all his powers in the per- 
fection of oratorical and rhetorical forms, without pro- 
ducing a great or effective speech, Autony now comes 
forward. Behold the contrast ! 



an embryo speech. 37 

Antony's Speech. 
The introduction is like and unlike that of Brutus, 
The same three titles are used ; the same call for attention. 
But there is no repetition, no egotism, no elaboration. 
The introduction is short, calling attention to his osten- 
sible purpose, and prepares for a beautiful transition to 
the discussion. 

Introduction. 

" Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears. 
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him," 

There is not a superfluous word. But how can 
Antony glide into those praises of Caesar, which he 
has disclaimed, but which are necessary to his purpose ? 
The next sentence solves the question : 

" The evil that men do lives after them ; 
The good is oft interred with their bones ; 
So let it be with Caesar." 

This leads most naturally to the thought of the dis- 
cussion, which is, " No event of Caesar's life shows guilty 
ambition ; but many do reveal love to the people and 
care for the general welfare. He should, therefore, be 
mourned, and — the next word is not supplied by the 
orator, but forced from the hearts of the people — 
avenged! We quote a few only of the well-known 
words : 



38 an embryo speech. 

The Discussion. 
" The noble Brutus 
Hath told you Caesar was ambitious ; 
If it were so, it were a grievous fault, 
And grievously hath Caesar answered it. 
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest, 
(For Brutus is an honorable man, 
So are they all, all honorable men,) 
Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. 
He was my friend, faithful and just to me ; 
But Brutus says he was ambitious, 
And Brutus is an honorable man. 
He hath brought many captives home to Rome^ 
Whose ransom did the general coffers fill. 
Did this in Caesar seem ambitious ? 
When that the poor hath cried Caesar hath wept. 
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff. 
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious, 
And Brutus is an honorable man. 
You all did see, that, on the Lupercal, 
I thrice presented him a kingly crown, 
Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition ?" 

The strongest argument against belief in guilty 
ambition on the part of Caesar and in favor of punishing 
his murderers is reserved by the subtle Antony for the 
last, and then he manages to have the people demand it of 
him. He proceeds very naturally and effectively from 
the rent robe and the bleeding body to the will of Caesar. 
This instrument gave the Romans each a large donation 



AN EMBRYO SPEECH. 39 

in money, and bestowed upon them collectively " his 
walks, his private arbors, and new-planted orchards " as 
a public park. The argument w r as irresistible, and 
needed no elaboration. If his death was avenged as a 
murder, the will would be valid ; otherwise, it w r ould be 
set aside, and his estate confiscated by the conspirators. 
The people, thus fired by the strongest motives of grati- 
tude and interest themselves supply the conclusion, and 
Brutus had to fly for his life. 

The whole speech is worth study as an exhibition of 
almost perfect eloquence. Shakespeare meant to draw 
in Brutus the picture of a scholar coming before the 
people with fine words, and producing little more than a 
literary effect. In Antony he pictures the true orator 
in the plentitude of his power, to whom words are but 
servants in accomplishing his purpose of persuading and 
inflaming the people. The one speech reads as if it 
might have been written out in the closet and memorized ; 
the other gushes from the heart of the speaker as he 
watches the sea of upturned faces, adapting his words 
with exquisite skill to suit and swell the passions written 
there. 



CHAPTER IV. 
Initial Fear and how to Overcome it. 

However numerous and varied may be the classes of 
those who contemplate extempore speech, they are all 
confronted by one common difficulty. Whether a boy 
makes his maiden effort, or a man of wide thought and 
ripe culture attempts for the first time to dispense with 
the manuscript in which he has trusted through years of 
successful public speech, the fear of failing looms up 
before each of them in a manner equally formidable. 

The writer well remembers his first boyish venture 
into this arena of peril. A debate in a village shoe- 
maker's shop furnished the occasion. Two or three 
" speakers " were ranged on a side, and the question was 
that time-honored controversy of country lyceums — the 
comparative magnitude of the wrongs suffered by the 
Indians and the Negroes at the hands of the American 
Government. Which side the writer was on, or what 
arguments were used, has long since been forgotten, but 
the palpitating heart, the terrible suspense, as one after 
another of the preceding speakers made his remarks and 
brought the terrible moment of facing the audience 
nearer, can never cease to be remembered. When at last 
ealled out by the voice of the presiding officer, I found 

40 



INITIAL FEAR. 41 

my way to the end of a rude bench or counter that ran 
partly across the room, leaned upon it, shut my eyes, and 
began to talk. How hoarse and hollow the sound that 
followed ! All that was uttered was instantly forgotten 
by the speaker, for one terrible thought dominated every 
other — a speech was being made! My head whirled, 
every nerve tingled, and a confused, roaring sound filled 
my ears, while I most heartily repented of allowing 
myself to be persuaded into such a frightful position. 
A great dread stared at me from the end of each sen- 
tence — that of finding nothing more to say and being 
obliged to sit down amid the ridicule of neighbors and 
school-fellows. When at length the agony was over, 
and opening my eyes, I dropped into a seat, a striking 
revulsion of feeling occurred. This rose to the height 
of joy and triumph when I learned that " the speech ?; 
had actually been ten minutes long. It was a grand 
achievement ! 

In all sober earnest, I estimate that this first effort was 
probably the most profitable of my life, because it was 
a beginning in the right direction. Weeks of prepara- 
tion preceded the momentous effort, and in some kind 
of a way the result had been poured upon the audience. 
From that time the writer was numbered among the 
village debaters and shared in the advantages of the 
village Lyceum — a capital means of improvement. Had 
the first extemporaneous effort been made later in life, 



12 INITIAL FEAR. 

the shrinking and terror would probably have been even 
greater. 

While no way has been discovered of altogether pre- 
venting the initial fear that attends extemporaneous 
speech by the unpracticed orator, yet it may be greatly 
lessened and more rapid and perfect control of it obtained 
by heeding a few simple suggestions. Some serviceable 
expedients have already been pointed out, and will here 
only be referred to. As simple a plan as that described 
in the last chapter, with lengthened meditation on each 
part, will give the mind of the speaker something to do 
aside from dwelling upon his own danger. He should 
also prepare far more matter than can possibly be used 
— so much that in the simplest and baldest statement it 
will fill a respectable period of time. He need not be 
careful as to how he speaks, or in how many forms he 
repeats the same idea. Originality, also, may safely be 
neglected. The object is not to talk especially well, or 
to utter that which has never been uttered before, but 
only to keep on talking until self-possession and the 
mastery of every faculty have been fully restored. This 
preparation of great quantities of material with no care 
as to the graces of delivery may expose the speaker in 
time to another peril — that of being tedious and weari- 
some ; but this is not the source of the initial fear with 
which we are now dealing, and when it becomes a real 
evil there are effectual means of guarding against it. 



INITIAL FEAR. 43 

A further direction is that the mode of introduction 
be very firmly fixed in the mind. This wonderfully 
calms the speaker. He knows that he can begin even if 
he never gets any further ; and by the time the intro- 
duction is passed, if the man possesses any natural apti- 
tude for speech, his mind will in all ordinary cases have 
recovered its equilibrium, and be ready to devise and 
direct everything that follows. 

The plan and the full notes which have been made 
should also be kept within easy- reach, or even in the 
hand — not with the intention of using them, for that is 
the very thing to be avoided, but that the speaker, by 
knowing that they can be referred to in an emergency, 
may be guarded against " stage fright." He may also 
exercise self-control by not looking at them unless abso- 
lutely driven to it. 

The object of first efforts — even for the orator w T ho is 
great in other modes of delivery — is not to make a great 
or admired speech, but only to get through the ordeal 
without disgrace or failure. Quality must, be sought 
later. To get any reasonable quantity of speech at first, 
to satisfy yourself that you can both think and talk 
when on your feet, is achievement enough. 

One caution may be offered to the man possessing a 
good written style which the boy will not need. Do 
not make your preparation so minutely or verbally that 
the very words linger in your memory. If you do, one 



44 INITIAL FEAR. 

of two things will probably happen : either you will 
recite a memorized speech, which, however fine in itself, 
will contribute nothing to the object of learning to speak 
extemporaneously, or the fine fragments of remembered 
diction that flood in your mind will be so out of harmony 
with the words spontaneously evolved as to produce a 
continual series of jars and discords noticeable to every 
one, and to none more painfully than to yourself. The 
writer once listened to a speech of this mixed character, 
in which the orator would soar for a time on the wings 
of most excellent words, and then drop down to his ordi- 
nary and very meagre vocabulary. So frequent and 
unexpected were these transitions that the orator's pro- 
gress suggested nothing so much as traveling over one 
of those western corduroy roads, where the wheels of the 
carriage first rise with a great effort on top of a log, and 
then plunge into fathomless depths of mud ! Rather 
than such jolting, it is better that the experimental 
speeches should never rise above the level of mere talk, 
and thus maintain a uniform progress. In due time all 
qualified persons can lift their extemporaneous words as 
high as the utmost reach of the pen. But first must be 
gained the power of standing unprotected by a paper wall, 
face to face with an audience and employing every faculty 
as calmly and efficiently as in the study. Practice in 
talking to the people will make this possible and easy, 
but nothing else will. 



CHAPTER Y. 

Utility of Debating Societies. 

Comparatively little attention is paid to the direct 
cultivation of extemporaneous oratory in schools and 
colleges. Indirectly, much help is given by teaching 
many things which go to furnish the orator with ideas 
and words, but the combination of these into that noble 
effort of human genius — a speech — is left to individual 
research or to accident. A few schools of oratory have 
been founded which give a large and probably dispro- 
portionate share of attention to elocution in the form of 
stage or dramatic reading ; but even the best of these are 
as yet but entering upon their real work of cultivating 
thoroughly the power of persuasive public speech. When 
each college shall have a chair of extempore speech^ 
and each academy shall give as much attention to unpre- 
meditated utterances in conversation and public address 
as is now bestowed upon Greek or Latin, the oratory of 
pulpit, bar, platform, and legislature will be of a vastly 
higher type. 

Some newspaper critics have deprecated teaching the 

art of speech on the ground that there is already too 

much public talking. This view, if seriously entertained, 

45 



16 UTILITY OF DEBATING SOCIETIES. 

is very narrow and misleading. Not more, but bettei 
speech — an increase of quality, rather than quantity — 
would result from cultivation, and improved methods. 
And it may also be argued that if a great part of the 
work of life is found in convincing, instructing, and per- 
suading our fellows, an abundance of speech is absolutely 
required. As freedom and mental activity increase, the 
only practicable modes of leading and governing men, 
which rest upon persuasive speech, will be more urgently 
demanded. In a state where the will of one man is law, 
political speech has little place ; and in a Church where 
independent thought is heresy and the mass of the people 
accept unquestioningly the precise form of faith in which 
they were born, preaching will have a very narrow field. 
But in our own country it is our boast that we determine 
every subject by free discussion ; and it is clear that a 
man who can take no part in the oral battles that are 
continually waged about him is placed at a great disad- 
vantage. 

But the literary societies generally connected with 
schools do afford very valuable help in acquiring the art 
of oratory. Not only their formal exercises, but their 
discussion of points of order and procedure, and the 
management of the business and government of such 
societies, call out talking talent. Debating societies or 
lyceums give the same kind of facilities to speakers 
outside of educational halls. A spirited debate on some 



UTILITY OF DEBATING SOCIETIES. 47 

topic not above the comprehension of the debaters 
affords one of the best possible means of acquiring the 
prime faculties of assurance and fluency. In such 
debates the question is chosen, the sides assigned, and 
ample time given for that kind of preparation which 
can only be effectually made in the general study of the 
subject. There is no great temptation to write a speech 
for a coming debate, as its formal sentences would fit 
poorly into the line of argument, the course of which 
cannot be foreseen, even if their substance should not be 
anticipated by a speaker on the same side. But the 
more general knowledge of the subject in its entire range 
that can be acquired the better, so long as it does not 
overwhelm the speaker. The opening speech may 
indeed be planned in advance with some definiteness, 
but all others will be colored and modified bv the situa- 
lion into which the debate has been drawn. Each par- 
ticipant is under a strong stimulus to do his best, sure, 
if successful, of warm approval by his colleagues and 
sweet triumph over his opponents. After the opening 
speech each contestant will have the time his predecessor 
is speaking for arranging arguments and preparing an 
answer. The stimulus of contradiction rouses every 
faculty to the highest energy. Each argument is scru- 
tinized for the purpose of discovering its weak point, 
and nothing will pass on trust. It may as well be 
acknowledged that the gladiatorial, spirit, though in -a 



48 UTILITY OF DEBATING SOCIETIES. 

modified form, is still rife in the civilized world. The 
"j°7 °f conflict" may be tasted as well in the sharp 
encounters of an earnest debate upon some topic of 
absorbing interest as on the battle-field. A society which 
furnishes its members continual opportunity for speech, 
under such conditions cannot fail to be a powerful 
educator in the direction of extemporaneous speech. In 
such encounters, the freedom that belongs to this kind of 
address is most highly appreciated, and the mistaken 
considerations of dignity and propriety which so often 
take all life and heart from speech can have little 
weight. Debates have indeed been occasionally carried 
on by means of essays in place of speeches, but such 
encounters have been tame and listless affairs, and have 
soon given place to the real article. Among the Ameri- 
can statesmen who have taken their first lessons in the art 
which paved their way to greatness in country debating 
societies may be reckoned Henry Clay, Abraham Lin- 
coln, James A. Garfield, and many others only less emi- 
nent. 

Enough inducements, we trust, have been set forth to 
lead every student of speech to find or make an oppor- 
tunity for availing himself of this capital means of cul- 
tivation. Let him enter upon the work of debating, 
earnestly resolving (after the first few efforts) to do the 
very best in his power. Let him arrange his material 
carefully, select a striking mode of opening ea^h address, 



UTILITY OF DEBATING SOCIETIES. 49 

and strive to close in such a manner as to leave the best 
effect on the minds of his hearers. As he -debates for 
improvement rather than for immediate victory, he will, 
of course, despise all tricks and seek to win fairly, or — 
what is just as important a lesson — he will learn to 
accept defeat gracefully. 

The skeletons of two speeches on opposite sides of the 
same question are here presented for the purpose of 
showing how a simple plan will hold to the proper place 
all the thoughts and arguments that may be accumulated. 

The same form of outline is used as in the preceding 
chapter. 

Question. 
Would the annexation of Cuba to the United States be 
beneficial f 

Affirmative Argument. 

Introduction. — How small and hemmed in by 
powerful countries the United States would 
have been if no annexations had ever been 
made. To annex Cuba would be no new policy. 

Discussion. Argument First. — Favorable loca- 
tion of Cuba and commercial value to the 
United States. 

Argument Second. — The great riches and beauty 
of the Island, which make it very desirable. 

Argument Third. — Advantages to the people of 
Cuba themselves, in belonging to a great and 
free nation. 



50 UTILITY OF DEBATING SOCIETIES. 

Conclusion. — All previous annexations had to 
encounter strong opposition when first pro- 
posed, but are now acknowledged to have been 
good policy. So, if Cuba is brought under 
our flag, opposition will die out and all parties 
be glad of the result. 

Negative Argument. 

Introduction. — Plausible but inconclusive na- 
ture of the argument advanced on the other 
side. Previous annexations may not have been 
good, though opposition ceased w-hen it could 
avail nothing. Even if all former annexations 
were beneficial this might not be, as all attend- 
ing circumstances are so widely different. 

Discussion. Argument First — The nation has 
already as much territory as can be w-ell gov- 
erned. An increase would lead to grave dan- 
gers. 

Argument Second. — The people of Cuba are dif- 
ferent in language, race, and religion from the 
majority of the people of the United States; 
have different customs, and are unacquainted 
with the working of our institutions. They 
could not therefore be transformed easily into 
good citizens, 

Conclusion. — Dreadful wars and calamities 
have arisen in all ages and all parts of the 
world from greediness in absorbing territory— 
" earth hunger," as the Germans call it. To 
annex Cuba would involve present and future 
danger. 



CHAPTER VI. 

Thought and Emotion. 

Two kinds of preparation contribute to the production 
of eloquence. One is the preparation of the speaker, 
the other of the speech. The first is fully as important 
as the second. In ordinary cases both are indispensabie. 
Some " born orators " speak well without appearing to 
pay any attention to the improvement of their faculties. 
Others are occasionally eloquent on a topic without 
special preparation. Yet these cases when closely ex- 
amined will be found apparent rather than real excep- 
tions to the rule above stated. The man who seems 
never to have cultivated the power of speech, and is yet 
able to blaze into fervid eloquence at will, has usually 
concealed his preparation or carried it on in such uncom- 
mon methods that they have not been recognized as 
preparations. On the other hand, a man who speaks 
well without a moment's warning can do so only when 
the subject is thoroughly familiar to him. A ready and 
self-possessed speaker may*grasp thoughts which have 
been long maturing in his mind t and give them forth to 
an audience in obedience to an unexpected summons, but 
if he is called upon when he knows nothing whatever oi 
bis subject, failure is inevitable, though he may possibly 

51 



52 THOUGHT AND EMOTION. 

veil it more or less in a stream of platitudes. Ask a 
man at a moment's warning to give an astronomical 
lecture. If he is perfectly familiar with the subject in 
general, and is also a practical orator, he may succeed 
well without preparing a special speech. But if he is 
ignorant of Astronomy, what kind of an address can he 
make ? If he is the most eloquent man in the nation 
that faculty will avail him nothing, for he cannot extem- 
porize the names of the planets, the laws which govern 
their motions, or any of the facts out of which his lecture 
must be woven. Precisely the same necessity of adequate 
information exists in every other field of intelligence. 
The ignorant man cannot possibly tell that which he does 
not know, although he may make a great show of knowl- 
edge out of small material; but even to do that with 
certainty requires careful premeditation and arrange- 
ment. 

In this and following chapters we wish to treat of 
the kind of cultivation which makes a man ready to 
speak. The field is here very wide and some general 
considerations must be introduced, but we hope also to 
give valuable practical directions, especially to those 
who are yet at the beginning of their career. 

In considering man as a speaker, we may classify his 
faculties into two broad divisions; those which furnish 
the materials of communication with his fellows; and 
those which furnish the means of such communication, 



THOUGHT A^sD EMOTION. 53 

The first class gives rise to thoughts and emotions in 
man's own breast; the second enables him to arouse 
similar thoughts and emotions in the breasts of others. 
Our course, therefore, will be to consider, first, thought 
and emotion, and afterward those powers of body and 
mind by which we express, that is, press out from our- 
selves toward the receptive faculties of our fellow beings. 

Thought, in the broad sense here given, embraces 
the knowledge of all facts, and all the reasoning that may 
be based upon those facts. Emotion is the mental feeling 
or response to knowledge, and comprises love, hate, joy, 
fear, sorrow, and hope. These two elements are the 
broad basis of all eloquence. Keen, profound, far-reach- 
ing thought — in other words, thought raised to its 
highest terms — and quick, sensitive, powerful emotion, 
are necessary to the highest eloquence. Compared with 
them, mere verbal fluency is less than dust in the 
balance. But such a combination — the highest degree 
of both thought and emotion — is rare, and many degrees 
less than the highest of either is available for genuine 
eloquence. To increase either or both, if it can be 
done without any corresponding sacrifice, is to increase 
eloquence in precisely the same proportion. 

Education in the popular sense is the cultivation of 
thought with the added faculty of language. But we 
prefer to consider the latter power separately as cue 
among the means of communicating thought. 



54 THOUGHT AND EMOTION. 

How, then, shall thought-power be increased ? There 
is no royal road. Every one of the faculties by which 
knowledge is accumulated and arranged or digested into 
new forms grows stronger by being employed upon its 
own appropriate objects. Exercise is then the means by 
which the material of knowledge is gathered, and all 
faculties strengthened for future gathering. Each fact 
gained adds to the treasury of thought. A broad and 
liberal education is of exceeding advantage. This may 
or may not be of the schools. Indeed, they too often 
substitute a knowledge of words for a knowledge of 
things. That fault is very serious to the orator, for the 
only way by which even language can be effectively 
taught, is by giving terms to objects, the nature of 
which has been previously learned. 

But many persons need to speak who cannot obtain an 
education in the usual sense of the words — that is, 
college or seminary training. Must they keep their lips 
forever closed on that account ? By no means. 

A thousand examples, some of them the most eminent 
speakers the world has produced, encourage them to 
hope. Let such persons learn all they can. Wide, 
well-selected, and systematic reading will do wonders in 
supplying the necessary thought-material. Every book 
of history, biography, travels, popular science, which is 
carefully read, and its contents fixed in the mind, will 
be available for the purposes of oratory. Here a word 



THOUGHT AND EMOTION. 55 

of advice may be offered, which, if heeded, will be worth 
many months of technical education at the best colleges 
in the land ; it is this : have always at hand some work 
that in its own sphere possesses real and permanent 
merit, and read it daily until completed. If notes are 
made of its contents, and the book itself kept on hand 
for reference, so much the better. If some friend can be 
found who will hear you relate in your own words what 
you have read, this also will be of great value. Many 
persons, especially in our own country, spend time enough 
in reading the minute details of the daily papers to make 
them thoroughly acquainted in ten years with forty vol- 
umes of the most useful books in the world. Think of 
it ! This number may include nearly all the literary 
masterpieces. Which mode of spending the time will 
produce the best results? One newspaper read daily 
would amount to more than three hundred in a year, and 
allowing each paper to be equal to ten ordinary book 
pages, the result would be three thousand pages annually, 
or six volumes of five hundred pages each. In ten years 
this would reach sixty volumes ! This number, com- 
prising the world's best books in history, poetry, science, 
and general literature, might be read slowly, with medi- 
tation and diligent note-taking, by the most busy man 
who was willing to employ his leisure in that way. 
Libraries and books are now brought within the reach 
of all, and the mass of what man knows can be learned 



56 THOUGHT AND EMOTION, 

in outline by any student who thirsts for knowledge. 
While thus engaged the student is on the direct road 
toward oratorical efficiency, though such knowledge will 
not in itself constitute eloquence. It is but one of its 
elements. Neither will the speaker have to wait until 
any definite quantity of reading has been accomplished 
before it becomes serviceable to him. All that he learns 
will be immediately available, and, with proper effort, 
the facility of speech and the material for speaking will 
keep pace with each other. 

But personal observation of life and nature are just 
as necessary as reading. The world of books is very 
extensive, but it yields its treasures only to persons who 
bring to its study some independent knowledge of their 
own. We cannot hope to add much to the world's stock 
of knowledge by what we see with our own eyes, but 
w^hat we do see and hear will interpret for us what we 
learn from the far wider world of books. Gibbon tells 
us that his militia service, though of no great advan- 
tage in itself, was afterward very useful to the historian 
of the Roman Empire. What we behold of the land- 
scape around us lays the foundation for understanding 
what poets and travelers tell us of other landscapes we 
may never see. Book knowledge will become real and 
vivid just in proportion as it is brought into comparison 
with the observation of our own senses. To the orator, 
this is far more important than to the ordinary student, 



THOUGHT AND EMOTION. 57 

for it adds greatly to the royal faculty of imagination. A 
description from the lips of a speaker who beholds at the 
moment a mental picture, accurate as a photograph, and 
bright with color, will be very different from another 
description built up only of words, however well chosen 
and melodious the latter may be. A little dabbling in 
natural science, a few experiments tried, an occasional 
peep through telescope or microscope at the worlds they 
open, and all other means of bringing knowledge under 
the scrutiny of our own senses, will greatly contribute to 
the power of the orator. 

The reasoning faculties must also be trained by exer- 
cise upon their own objects. The knowledge which has 
been gathered from personal observation or from the 
testimony of others in books will furnish material, but 
will not enable us to reason. Logic and mathematics 
have considerable utility as guides, but they cannot supply 
the want of continuous application of the processes of 
argument and deduction. No man becomes a reasoner 
from merely learning the mode in which the reason 
operates. Of two persons, one of whom understands 
every mood of the syllogism and the source of every 
fallacy, while the other has no technical knowledge of 
logic, but has been engaged in careful reasoning, discus- 
sion, and argument, all his life, it may easily happen that 
the latter will be the better reasoner of the two — just as 
a man might learn from the books all the rules of the 



58 THOUGHT AND EMOTION. 

game of croquet, and yet be beaten by another who 
continually handled the mallet, but had never read a 
single rule. Practice makes perfect. Essay writing, 
constructing arguments, tracing effects back to their 
causes, making careful comparison of all things that can 
be compared, in short, bringing our judgment to bear 
upon all facts, forming our owti opinions of every event, 
and being always ready to give a reason to those who 
ask,— these modes of exercise will make the faculty of 
reason grow continually stronger. It is not pretended 
that these or any other modes of cultivation can make 
all minds equal, but they will improve any one— the 
lowest as surely as the most active — though the interval 
after both have been thus exercised will remain as great 
as before. 

Extempore speech itself, when practiced upon carefully 
arranged plans or models as recommended hereafter, is 
one of the most powerful modes of cultivating the logi- 
cal faculty. To construct plans, so that all thoughts 
accumulated upon a given subject may be unfolded in a 
natural and orderly manner, cannot fail to exercise the 
reasoning faculties, and impart corresponding strength to 
them. 

But how shall emotion be cultivated? The wisest 
speech, if deep feeling neither throbs in the words nor 
is manifested in delivery, cannot be eloquent. The 
orator can only speak forth from an aroused and excited 



% 

THOUGHT AND EMOTION. 5& 

nature. There is a kind of intellectual excitation 
kindled by the presentation of truth which is suf- 
ficiently effective when instruction is the only object. 
But to persuade and move men — the usual aim of the 
orator — requires passion. No pretense will avail the 
extempore speaker. He will infallibly be detected if 
counterfeiting, and to succeed in exhibiting feeling he 
must really feel. There are but two things which can 
arouse feeling — care for a cause or for persons. Many a 
man is eloquent when " riding his hobby," though at no 
other time. He has thought so much upon that special 
subject, and has so thoroughly identified himself with it, 
that everything relating to it becomes invested with per- 
sonal interest. Any cause which can thus be made per- 
sonal will be apt to arouse feeling. It would be wise, 
therefore, for an orator to identify himself as closely as 
possible with all manner of good causes which come 
within his reach. Then such well-springs of emotion 
will gush out easily and frequently. 

This mode of excitation is largely intellectual in its 
character. The next to be described has more to do with 
the affections. The clergyman wants to secure the wel- 
fare of his congregation, and the better he is acquainted 
with them individually the stronger will be this wish. 
The lawyer is but a poor attorney if he does not so 
identify himself with his client as to feel more than a 
professional interest in the latter's success. The politi- 



60 THOUGHT AND EMOTION. 

cian needs no exhortation to rouse his enthusiasm for his 
party and his chief. All these are instances of that care 
for persons which adds so greatly to the powers of effec- 
tive speech. The plain inference, therefore, is that the 
speaker will gain largely by identifying himself as 
closely as possible with the interests of men, and by cul- 
tivating love for them. A cynical or indifferent spirit 
makes a fearful discount from the possibilities of 
eloquence. Only the greatest qualities in other direc- 
tions can prevent it from proving fatal. 

The power and sensitiveness of emotions founded upon 
intimate knowledge and partnership of interest go far 
to explain the wonderful eloquence of the old Greeks. 
Their country w r as the native land of eloquence. This 
arose not so much from the character of that gifted race 
as from the fact that each speaker personally knew his 
audience and had an intimate, material interest in the 
affairs he discussed. They regarded their opponents as 
terribly bad men. Their own lives and the lives of 
many of their friends were not unfrequently involved in 
the questions they discussed. The States were so small, 
and the personal element so important, that strongly 
aroused feeling became inevitable. The discussion of 
war or peace before an audience who knew that if they 
voted war their town might be besieged by the enemy 
within a fortnight, was sure to be eagerly listened to. 
No platitudes would be tolerated. The orators spoke 



THOUGHT AND EMOTION. tfl 

before their neighbors, some of them friendly, others 
bitter enemies who were seeking in each word they 
uttered an occasion for their ruin. Much of the won- 
derful power of Demosthenes arose from the deep solici- 
tude felt by himself and excited in his hearers as they 
watched the swiftly coming ruin of their common 
country. 

It is also a law of human nature that we feel deeply 
for that which has cost us great labor. The collector of 
old china or of entomological specimens learns to 
greatly value the ugly dishes and bugs he gathers, though 
others may despise them. The more of real work we 
do in the world, the deeper the hold our hearts take 
upon it. This is one of the secrets of the power of 
goodness as an element of oratory. It was long ago 
declared that a good man, other things being equal, will 
be a better speaker than a bad man. His affections are 
called forth by a greater variety of objects. Yet hate 
can make a man eloquent as well as love, and some of 
the most eloquent orations ever uttered partook largely 
of this baleful inspiration. But the occasions on which 
noble feelings may rise into eloquence are far more 
numerous and important. 

Why should not a man train himself to take a deep 
interest in all that is brought familiarly to his notice ? 
This wide range of sympathy is one of the marks which 
distinguishes a great from a small mind. It has been 



62 THOUGHT AND EMOTION. 

said that " lunar politics " can have no possible interests 
for the inhabitants of this globe. But who can be sure 
of this, if there be such a thing as " lunar politics " ? 
The wider our knowledge the more we recognize the 
possibility of interests which we had not before dreamed 
of. If there are inhabitants on the moon, and if we 
have an immortal existence, it is far from impossible 
that we might some time be brought into the closest con- 
nection with them. No man can tell the bearing of a 
new fact upon human welfare, more than he can write 
the history of a new-born babe. At any^rate, every 
fact is a part of the great system of truth which lies all 
about us, and which is adapted to the needs of our intel- 
lect. Let it also be remembered that all men are kin- 
dred, and that we should make common cause with them. 
When this comes to be the habitual attitude of the mind, 
not as a mere sentiment, but as a strong and steady 
impulse, impassioned speech on any great theme affecting 
the interests of nations or individual men will be easy. 

Emotion cannot be feigned, neither can it be directly 
roused by an effort of the will. We cannot say, " Now 
I will be in a furious passion/' or, " Now I will be 
inflamed with wrath against this great wrong," for the 
mere sake of speaking better upon the subject in hand. 
But we can gaze upon a great wrong, and meditate upon 
the evil it involves, until the tides of indignant emotion 
arise in our breast. Mftny a well-prepared speech has 



THOUGHT AND EMOTION. 63 

failed of effect, because the orator was so anxious about 
the form of his address and his own popularity as to 
lose interest in the subject itself. Sometimes speeches 
read or recited fail from an opposite cause. The interest 
has once been aroused, and having burned during the 
protracted period of composition, it cools and cannot be 
recalled. No energy, declamation, or elegance of diction 
can redeem this capital defect. 

To tell a man in general terms how he may widen his 
sympathies and enter into the closest bonds with his fel- 
lows is difficult. It is much easier to tell him what not 
to do. The hermits of the desert took exactly the 
wrong course. They lost the power of eloquence except 
upon some theme which could be wedded to their solitary 
musings. Peter the Hermit w r as roused to fury by the 
tales of wrongs to pilgrims in the Holy City — almost 
the only thing that could have made him eloquent. But 
on that one topic he spoke like a man inspired and was 
able to call all Europe to arms. Whatever separates 
from the common interests of humanity must diminish 
the power or at least the range of genuine emotion, To 
know a great many men, to understand their business 
affairs, to enter into their joy and fear, to watch the feel- 
ings that rise and fall in their hearts, is sure to deepen 
our own feelings by unconscious imitation and sympathy. 
Each new friend is an added power of noblest emotion— 
a new point at which the world takes hold of our hearts. 



34 THOUGHT AND EMOTION. 

How many persons are eloquent for a cause only ! On 
the other hand, some men care nothing for general prin- 
ciples, but will throw their whole soul into a conflict for 
friends. 

That man is well furnished for eloquence who knows 
a great deal, who can mentally combine, arrange, and 
reason correctly upon what he knows, who feels a per- 
sonal interest in every fact with which his menrbry is 
stored, and every principle which can be deduced from 
those facts, and who has so great an interest in his fel- 
lows that all deeds which affect them awaken the same 
response in his heart as if done to himself. He will 
then possess all the necessary treasures of thought, and 
will himself be warmed by the fires of emotion. The 
only remaining problem will be to find the manner of 
communicating his thought and emotion in undiminished 
force to others through the medium of speech. 

The mode of cultivating the powers necessary to this 
end will next engage our attention. 



CHAPTER VII. 
Language. 

The preceding chapter dealt with those faculties which 
provide the materials of speech, and in one sense was 
scarcely appropriate to a treatise designed to show the 
best modes of communicating knowledge. Yet it was 
difficult to approach the subject intelligibly in any other 
way. So much has been said about the natural pow r er 
of oratory that it was necessary to define its character 
and to show how it might be supplemented by cultiva- 
tion. But it is more directly our task to point out the 
mode of improving the communicative faculties. 

First in importance among these stands language. 
Without its assistance thought could not be consecutively 
imparted. Some vague and intangible conceptions might 
arise within our own minds, but even these could not be 
given to other minds without the medium of w T ords. 
The poAver of language is distinct from general intellec- 
tual ability. It by no means follows that a man who 
possesses important thoughts and deep emotions will be 
able to communicate them well ; but a very moderate 
endowment of the word-faculty may be so cultivated as 
to fulfill every requirement. Diligent practice in the 

methods advised below will enable the great majority of 

65 



tJ6 LANGUAGE. 

men to express their thoughts with fullness and ac- 
curacy. 

There are certain laws in every language made binding 
by custom, which cannot be transgressed without expos- 
ing the offender to the severe penalty of ridicule and 
contempt. These laws form the basis of grammar, and 
must be thoroughly learned. If a man has been under 
the influence of good models from childhood, correctness 
will be a matter almost of instinct ; but the reverse of 
this is frequently the case. Even then there is but little 
difficulty experienced by any one who will take the 
necessary pains, in learning to write in accordance with 
the rules of speech, and when this power has been 
attained there is a standard formed by which to judge our 
spoken words. But it is not enough for the extempore 
speaker to be able to reduce his sentences to correctness 
by recasting, pruning, or adding to them. They should 
be required to present themselves at first in correct form 
and in rounded completeness. He has no time to think 
of right or wrong constructions, and the only safe way, 
therefore, is to make the right so habitual that the wrong 
will not once be thought of. In other words, we must 
not only be able to express ourselves correctly by tongue 
and pen, but the very current of unspoken words that 
flows in our brains must be shaped in full conformity to 
the laws of language. When we exercise the power of 
continuous grammatical thinking, there will be no diffi- 



LANGUAGE. 67 

culty in avoiding the ridiculous blunders which are sup- 
posed to be inseparable from extempore speech. 

Correctness in pronunciation is also of importance.. 
Usage has given each word its authorized sound, which 
no person can frequently mistake without rendering him- 
self liable to the easiest and most damaging of all criti- 
cisms. Bad pronunciation produces another and ex- 
tremely hurtful effect upon extempore speech. The men- 
tal effort necessary to discriminate between two modes of 
pronouncing a word, neither of which is known to be 
right, diverts the mind from the subject and produces em- 
barrassment and hesitation. Accuracy in the use of 
words, which is a charm in spoken no less than written 
language, may also be impaired from the same cause ; for 
if two terms that may be used for the same idea are 
thought of, only one of which can be pronounced with cer- 
tainty, that one will be preferred, even if the other be the 
more suitable. The extemporizer ought to be so familiar 
with the sound of all common words that none but the 
right pronunciation and accent will ever enter his mind. 

Fluency and accuracy in the use of words are two 
qualities that have often been confounded, though per- 
fectly distinct. To the speaker they are of equal im- 
portance, while the writer has far more need of the latter. 
All words have their own peculiar shades of meaning. 
They have been builded up into their present shape 
through long ages. By strange turns and with many a 



68 LANGUAGE. 

curious history have they glided into the significations 
they now bear ; and each one is imbedded in the minds 
of th^ people as the representative of certain definite 
ideas. Words are delicate paints that, to the untutored 
eye, nmy seem of one color, but each has its own place 
in the picture painted by the hand of genius, and can be 
supplanted by no other. Many methods have been sug- 
gested for learning these fine shades of meaning. The 
study o f Greek and Latin has been urged as the best and 
almost the only way : such study may be very useful 
for discipline, and will give much elementary knowledge 
of the laws of language: but the man who knows no 
other tongue than his own need not consider himself 
debarred from the very highest place as a master of 
words. The careful study of a good etymological dic- 
tionary will, in time, give him about all the valuable 
information bearing upon this subject that he could 
obtain from the study of many languages. In general 
reading, let him mark e^ery word he does not perfectly 
understand, and from the dictionary find its origin, the 
meaning of its roots, and its varied significations at the 
present day. This will make the word as familiar as an 
old acquaintance, and when he meets it again he will 
notice if the author uses it correctly. The student may 
not be able to examine every word in the language, but 
by this mode he will be led to think of the meaning of 
each one he sees ; and from this silent practice he will learn 



LANGUAGE. 69 

the beauty and power of English as fully as if he sought 
it through the literatures of Greece and Rome. If this 
habit is long continued it will cause words to be used 
correctly in thinking as well as in speaking. To read a 
dictionary consecutively and carefully (ignoring the old 
story about its frequent change of subject) will also be 
found very profitable. 

Translating from any language, ancient or modern, 
will have just the same tendency to teach accurate ex- 
pression as careful original composition. In either case 
the improvement comes from the search for words that 
exactly convey certain ideas, and it matters not what the 
source of the ideas may be. The use of a good thesauras, 
or storehouse of words, may also be serviceable by show- 
ing in one view all the words that relate to any subject. 

But none of these methods will greatly increase fluency. 
There is a practical difference between merely knowing 
a term and that easy use of it which only habit can give. 
Elihu Burritt, with his knowledge of fifty languages, 
has often been surpassed in fluency, force, and variety of 
expression by an unlettered farmer, because the few 
wx>rds the latter knew w r ere always ready. There is no 
way to increase this easy and fluent use of language 
without much practice in utterance. Where and how 
can such practice be obtained ? 

Conversation affords an excellent means for this kind 
of improvement. We do not mean the running fire of 



70 LANGUAGE. 

question and answer, glancing so rapidly back and forth 
as to allow no time for premeditating or explaining any- 
thing, but real and rational talk — an exchange of 
thoughts and ideas clearly and intelligibly expressed. 
The man who engages much in this kind of conversa- 
tion can scarcely fail to become an adept in the art of 
expressing his thoughts in appropriate language. Talk 
much ; express your ideas in the best manner possible ; 
if difficult at first, persevere, and it will become easier. 
Thus you will learn eloquence in the best and most 
pleasing school. The common conversational style — 
that in which man deals directly with his fellow man — 
is the germ of true oratory. It may be amplified and 
systematized ; but talking bears to eloquence the same 
relation that the soil does to the tree that springs out of 
its bosom. 

But the best thoughts of men and the noblest expres- 
sions are seldom found floating on the sea of common 
talk. To drink the deepest inspiration, our minds must 
often come in loving communion with the wise and 
mighty of all ages. In the masterpieces of literature we 
will find " thought knit close to thought," and, what is 
still more to our present purpose, words so applied as to 
breathe and live. These passages should be read until 
their spirit sinks into our hearts and their melody rings 
like a blissful song in our ears. To memorize many 
such passages will be a profitable employment. The 



LANGUAGE. 71 

words of which such masterpieces are composed, with 
the meanings they bear in their several places, will thus 
be fixed in our minds ready to drop on our tongues when 
needed. This conning of beautiful passages is not now 
recommended for the purpose of quotation, although they 
may often be used in that manner to good advantage, 
but simply to print the individual words with their sig- 
nification more deeply in memory. 

This may be effected, also, by memorizing selections 
from our own best writings. What is thus used should 
be highly polished, and yet preserve, as far as possible, 
the natural form of expression. Carried to a moderate 
extent, this exercise tends to elevate the character of our 
extemporaneous efforts by erecting a standard that is our 
own, and therefore suited to our tastes and capacities ; 
but if made habitual, it will induce a reliance upon the 
memory rather than on the power of spontaneous pro- 
duction, and thus destroy the faculty it was designed to 
cultivate. 

But no means of cultivating fluency in language can 
rival extempore speech itself. The only difficulty is to 
find a sufficient number of occasions to speak. Long 
intervals of preparation have great advantages as far as 
the gathering of material for discourse is concerned; but 
they have disadvantages, also, which can only be over- 
come by more diligent effort in other directions. 

Clear and definite ideas greatly increase the power of 



72 LANGUAGE. 

language. "When a thought is fully understood it falls 
into words as naturally as a summer cloud, riven by the 
lightning, dissolves into rain. So easy is it to express a 
series of ideas, completely mastered, that a successful 
speaker once said, " It is a man's own fault if he ever 
fails. Let him prepare as he ought, and there is no 
danger." The assertion was too strong, for failure may 
come from other causes than a want of preparation. Yet 
the continuance of careful drill, in connection with fre- 
quent speaking and close preparation, will give very 
great ease and certainty of expression. The " blind but 
eloquent" preacher, Milburn, says that he gave four years 
of his life — the time spent as chaplain at Washington— 
to acquire the power of speaking correctly and easily 
without the previous use of the pen, and he declares that 
he considers the time well spent. His style is diffuse, 
sparkling, rhetorical, the most difficult to acquire, though 
not by any means the most valuable. An earnest, ner- 
vous, and yet elegant style may be formed by those who 
have the necessary qualifications in much shorter time. 



CHAPTER VIII. 
Imagination. 

Nothing adds more to the brilliancy and effectiveness 
of oratory than the royal faculty of imagination. This 
weird and glorious power deals with truth as well as fic- 
tion and gives to its fortunate possessor the creative, life- 
breathing spirit of poetry. 

Listen to the description of natural scenery by a per- 
son of imagination, and afterward by another destitute 
of that faculty ! Each may be perfectly accurate and 
refer to the same objects, even enumerating the same 
particulars in the same order; but the one gives a cata- 
logue, the other a picture. In relating a story or enforc- 
ing an argument, the same difference in the vividness of 
impression is apparent. 

It is said of Henry Ward Beecher ? who possesses a 
strong imagination, that the people would listen with 
delighted attention if he only described the mode in 
w^hich a potato grew ! He would see a thousand beauties 
in its budding and blossoming, and paint the picture so 
vividly as to command universal attention. 

The Bible, which is the most popular of all books, is 
pre-eminently a book of imagination. Nowhere is loftier 
or more beautiful imagery employed, or wrought into 

73 



74 IMAGINATION. 

more exquisite forms. A few short and simple words 
paint pictures that the world looks upon with astonish- 
ment from age to age. Paradise Lost, the most sublime 
imaginative poem in the language of man, drew much of 
its inspiration from a few passages in Genesis. Job and 
Isaiah are without rivals in the power of picturing by 
means of words, sublime objects beyond the grasp of 
mortal vision. 

While illustrations and comparisons flow principally 
from the reasoning faculties, their beauty and sparkle 
come from imagination. Without its influence these 
may explain and simplify, but they have no power to 
interest the hearer or elevate the tenor of discourse. 

How may imagination be cultivated ? It is said that 
" Poets are born, not made," but the foundation of every 
other faculty also is in nature, while all are useless, 
unless improved, and applied. Imagination will increase 
in vigor and activity by proper use. Its function is to 
form complete mental images from the detached mate- 
rials furnished by the senses. It gathers from all 
sources and mixes and mingles until a picture is pro- 
duced. The proper way to cultivate it lies in forming 
abundance of just such pictures and in finishing them 
with all possible care. Let the orator, on the canvas of 
the mind, paint in full size and perfect coloring, every 
part of his speech which relates to material or visible 
things. Illustrations also can usually be represented in 



IMAGINATION. 75 

picturesque form. We do not now speak of outward 
representation, but of viewing all objects in clear dis- 
tinctness, through the eye of the mind. It is not enough 
for the speaker, if he would reach the highest success, to 
gather all the facts he wishes to use, to arrange them in 
the best order, or even to premeditate the very form of 
words. Instead of the latter process, he may more pro- 
fitably strive to embrace all that can be pictured in one 
mental view. If he can summon before him in the 
moment of description the very scenes and events about 
which he is discoursing, and behold them vividly as in a 
waking dream, it is probable that his auditors will see 
them in the same manner. A large part of all discourses 
may thus be made pictorial. In Ivanhoe, one of the 
characters looks out through a castle window and describes 
to a wounded knight within the events of the assault which 
was being made upon the castle. Any person could describe 
the most stirring scene vividly and well in the moment 
of witnessing it. A strong imagination enables a speaker 
or poet to see those things he speaks of almost as accu- 
rately and impressively as if passing before his bodily 
eyes, and often with far more brightness of color. To 
make the effort to see what w^e write or read will have 
a powerful effect in improving the imaginative faculty. 
Reading and carefully pondering the works of those 
who have imagination in high degree will also be help- 
ful. The time devoted to the enjoyment of great poems 



7t> IMAGINATION. 

is not lost to the orator. They give richness and tone 
to his mind, introduce him into scenes of ideal beauty, 
and furnish him with many a striking thought and glow- 
ing image. 

Most of the sciences give as full scope to imagination 
in its best workings as poetry itself. Astronomy and 
geology are pre-eminent in this particular. Every- 
thing about them is grand. They deal with immense 
periods of time, vast magnitudes, and sublime histories. 
Each science requires the formation of mental images and 
thus gives the advantages we have already pointed out. 
It is possible for a scientific man to deal exclusively with 
the shell rather than the substance of science, with its 
technical names and definitions rather than its grand 
truths ; but in this case the fault is with himself rather 
than with his subject. The dryness of scientific and even 
mathematical studies relates only to the preliminary de- 
partments. A philosopher once said that success in science 
and in poetry depended upon the same faculties. He was 
very nearly right. The poet is a creator who forms new 
worlds of his own. The greatest of their number thus 
describes the process by which imagination performs its 
magic. 

" The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, 

Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; 

And, as imagination bodies forth 

The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen 



IMAGINATION. 77 

Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing 

A local habitation and a name. 

Such tricks hath strong imagination." 

Almost the same result must be reached in many depart- 
ments of science, with the aid of only a few scattered facts 
for a basis . The geologist has some broken bones, withered 
leaves, and fragments of rock, from which to reconstruct 
the primitive world. From the half-dozen facts observed 
through his telescope, the astronomer pictures the physi- 
cal condition of distant planets. In every science the 
same need exists for imagination in its highest, most 
truthful function, and the same opportunity is, therefore, 
afforded for its cultivation. 

An eminent elocutionist frequently urged his classes to 
employ all pauses in mentally picturing the idea contained 
in the coming sentence. He declared that by this means 
the expression of the voice was rendered more rich and 
true. In uttering our own words this process is at once 
more easy and more fruitful in varied advantages. 



m CHAPTER IX. 
Voice and Gesture. 

Voice and gesture form the immediate link between 
the speaker and his audience. The value of good quality 
in both is sometimes over-estimated, though it is always 
considerable. A good voice, well managed, gives pow- 
erful and vivid expression to thought, but cannot supply 
the absence of it. Neither is such a voice indispen- 
sable. Many instances of high success against vocal 
disadvantages might be mentioned ; but these only prove 
that other excellencies may atone for a single defect. 
We can never be indifferent to the charms of a good 
voice, that modulates with every emotion and responds 
to the finest shades of feeling. It has much of the 
pleasing quality of music. 

But this harmony cannot be evoked by merely 
mechanical training. To teach the pupil just what note 
on the musical scale he must strike to express a particular 
emotion, how much of an inflection must be used to 
express joy or sorrow, and how many notes down the 
scale mark a complete suspension of sense, is absurd : 
speech can never be set to music. 

But let it not be inferred from this that voice cultiva- 
tion is useless. The more perfect the instrument for the 



VOICE AND GESTURE. 79 

expression of thought can be made, the better it will be 
fitted for its high office. An orator may profitably spend 
a little time daily for years in training the voice, for it 
is a faculty he must continually employ, and none is 
more susceptible of improvement. The passion evoked 
in animated speech will demand for its adequate expres- 
sion almost every note and key within the compass of 
the voice ; and unless it has previously been trained into 
strength on each of these, it will fail or grow weary. 
The proper kind of preparation operates by exploring 
the range of the voice, testing its capabilities, and im- 
proving each tone. This work is not imitative or slavish. 
It is only like putting an instrument in tune before be- 
ginning a musical performance. 

To give full elocutionary instruction here woald bo 
aside from our purpose; but a few useful modes of 
practice may be pointed out. 

Good articulation is of prime importance. Nothing 
will contribute more to secure this valuable quality than 
the separation of words into their elements of sound 
and continued practice on each element as thus isolated. 
Phonetic shorthand affords a good means for making 
such analysis, or the same purpose may be accomplished 
by means of the marks of pronunciation found in any 
dictionary. As we practice these elements of sound we 
will discover the exact nature of any defect of articulation 
we may suffer from, and can drill upon the sounds that 



80 VOICE AND GESTURE. 

are difficult until they become easy. When we have thus 
learned to pronounce these few elements — not much 
above forty in number — and can follow them into all 
their combinations, we have mastered the alphabet of 
utterance. It will also contribute greatly to strengthen 
the voice and make it pliable, if we continue the same 
practice on these elements at different degrees of elevation 
on the musical scale until we can utter each one in full, 
round distinctness, at any pitch from the deepest bass to 
the shrillest note ever used in speech. This will bring 
all varieties of modulation within easy reach. 

Practice on these elements is also a very effective mode 
of strengthening weak voices. By pronouncing them 
one by one, with gradually increasing force, the degree 
of loudness we can attain at any pitch, will be greatly 
extended. The amount of improvement that may be 
made would be incredible if it were not so often exem- 
plified. Every teacher of elocution can testify of students, 
the power of whose voices has thus been multiplied many 
fold; and almost equal advantages may be reaped in 
persevering private practice. 

Following on the same line, we may learn to enunciate 
the elements, and especially the short vowels, in a quick, 
sharp tone, more rapidly than the ticking of a watch, 
and with the clearness of a bell. This will enable the 
speaker to avoid drawling, and be very fast when desir- 
able, without falling into indistinctness. Then, by an 



VOICE AND GESTURE. 81 

opposite process, other sounds, especially the long vowels, 
may be prolonged with every degree of force from the 
faintest to the fullest. Perseverance in these two exer- 
cises will so improve the voice that no hall will be too 
large for its compass. 

The differing extension of sounds, as well as their 
pitch and variations in force, constitute the perspective 
of speech and give it an agreeable variety, like the 
mingling of light and shade in a well-executed picture. 
The opposite of this, a dull, dead uniformity, with 
each word uttered in the same key, with the same force, 
and at the same degree of speed, becomes well-nigh un- 
bearable ; while perpetual modulation, reflecting in each 
rise and fall, each storm and calm of sound, the living 
thought within, is the perfection of nature, which the 
best art can only copy. 

All vocal exercises are of an essentially preparatory 
character. In the moment of speech details may safely 
be left to the impulse of nature. Supply the capability 
by previous discipline, and then allow passion to clothe 
itself in the most natural forms. There is such a vital 
connection between emotion and the tones of voice, that 
emphasis and inflection will b& as spontaneous, on the 
part of the disciplined speaker, as breathing. Rules 
remembered in the act of speaking tend to destroy all 
life and freshness of utterance. 

When bad habits have been corrected, the voice made 



82 VOICE AND GESTURE. 

supple and strong, confidence attained, and deep feeling 
evoked in the speaker's breast, there will be little need 
to care for the minutiae of elocution. The child that is 
burnt needs no instruction in the mode of crying out 
Let nature have her way, untrammeled by art, and all 
feelings will dominate the voice and cause every hearer 
to recognize their nature and participate in them. In 
this way we may not attain the brilliancy of theatric 
clap-trap, but we will be able to give " the touch of 
nature that makes the whole world kin." 

If carefully guarded, the faculty of imitation may be 
of great service in the management of the voice. The 
sounds that express sympathy and passion are heard 
everywhere, forming a medium of communication more 
subtle and widespread than any language of earth. From 
the example of great orators we may learn what true 
excellence is, and become able to reproduce some, at 
least, of their effects. It would be hurtful to confine our 
attention too long to one model, for true excellence is 
many-sided, and if we continually view only one of its 
phases we are apt to fall into slavish imitation — one of 
the greatest of all vices. By having many examples to 
look upon, and using them only to elevate our own ideal, 
we will escape this danger. The models before us will 
urge us to greater exertions and the whole level of our 
attainments be raised. 

There are abundant faults to mar the freedom and 



VOICE AND GESTURE, 83 

naturalness of deli very , and the speaker who would be 
truly natural must watch diligently for them and 
exterminate them without mercy. The sing-song tone, 
the scream, the lisp, the gutteral and tremulous tones, 
the rhythmical emphasis which falls like a trip-hammer 
at measured intervals, are specimens of common, bad 
habits that should be weeded out as fast as they push 
through the soil ; and if the speaker's egotism is too great to 
see them, or his taste not pure enough, some friend should 
point them out. Even the advice of an enemy conveyed in 
the unpleasant form of sarcasm and ridicule may be profit- 
ably used for the purpose of reform and improvement. 

Should a conversational tone be employed in speak- 
ing ? This question has often been asked, and much dif- 
ference of opinion evoked, but it may be satisfactorily 
answered. The language of conversation is the language 
of nature in its most unfettered form, and it should, 
therefore, be the basis of all speech. The same variety 
and character of intonations used in it should be 
employed in every variety of oratory. But conversa- 
tion itself varies widely with varying circumstances. 
The man talking with a friend across a river will speak 
less rapidly but more loudly than if he held that friend 
by the hand. In speaking to a number at once, the 
orator must, in order to be heard, speak more forcibly 
and distinctly than in addressing one only. With this 
explanation, it may be laid down as a safe rule that a 



84 VOICE AND GESTUBE. 

speech should begin in a conversational manner. But 
should it continue in the same way ? A deep, full tone 
— the orotund of the elocutionist — will make a stronger 
impression than a shrill, feeble utterance. And as con- 
versation becomes earnest even between two persons, 
there is the tendency to stronger and more impressive 
tones. This same tendency will be a sufficient guide in 
speech. A trained man giving utterance to a well-pre- 
pared speech, upon a theme which appeals to his own 
emotions, will adopt those oratorical tones which form a 
proper medium for eloquence, without a single thought 
given to that subject during the moment of delivery. 
Begin as a man who is talking to a number of his friends 
upon an interesting subject ; then, as the interest deepens, 
let go all restraint. As passion rises like an inflowing 
tide, the voice will be so fully possessed by it and so 
filled out and strengthened as to produce all the effect 
of which its compass is capable. It will deepen into the 
thunder roll when that is needed, and at the right time 
will grow soft and pathetic. 

But above almost every other error that the speaker 
can commit, beware of thinking that you must be loud 
in order to be impressive. Nothing is more disgusting 
than that interminable roar, beginning with a shout, and 
continuing to split the speaker's throat and the hearer's 
ears all through the discourse. This fault is not uncom- 
mon in the pulpit, especially among those who desire a 



VOICE AND GESTURE. 85 

reputation for extraordinary fervor and earnestness. 
But it is the worst kind of monotony. The loudness of 
tone, that applied at the right place would be overpower- 
ing, loses all power except to disgust and weary an audi- 
ence. It expresses no more thought or sentiment than 
the lashing of ocean waves conveys to the storm-tossed 
mariner. Have something to say; keep the fires of 
passion burning in your own soul ; learn the real strength 
there is in the reserve of power ; and the cultivated voice 
will not fail in its only legitimate office — that of making 
the clear and adequate impression of your thoughts and 
emotions upon the souls of others. 

Elocutionary manuals properly devote much space to 
the consideration of gesture, for the eye should be 
addressed and pleased as well as the ear. But we doubt 
whether the marking out of special gestures to be imi- 
tated can do much good. A few broad principles like 
those formulated by the celebrated French teacher, Del- 
sarte, may be profitably studied and made familiar by 
practice upon a few simple selections. After that the 
principal use of training is to give confidence so that the 
speaker may be in the full possession and instinctive use 
of all his powers. Fear often freezes the speaker into 
ice-like rigidity; and hearers are apt to feel the same 
deadly chill when listening to some one whose dominat- 
ing sentiment is the fear that he may do something ridicu- 
lous, or fail to win their favor. 



86 VOICE AND GESTURE. 

The secondary use of training in gesture is to discard 
awkward and repulsive movements. Timidity and fear 
may be overcome by a firm resolution, and the object is 
well worth the effort. Bad or ungraceful actions are far 
better in the case of a beginner than no action at all. 
The saying of Demosthenes, that the first, the second, 
and the third need of an orator is " action," does not 
fully apply to the modern speaker. He needs many 
things more urgently than action, even when that word 
is taken in its widest sense. But action is important, and 
when graceful and expressive, it does powerfully tend to 
arrest attention, and even to help the processes of thought 
on the part of the speaker himself. We have heard sev- 
eral eloquent men who scarcely moved during the 
delivery of an address, but never without feeling that 
good gesticulation would have been a great addition to 
their power. It is unnatural to speak for any consider- 
able period of time without moving. None but a lazy, 
sick, or bashful man will do it. Let the laziness be 
shaken off, the sickness cured, and the bashfulness 
reserved for a more fitting occasion ! A man who is too 
bashful and diffident to move hand, head, or foot in the 
presence of an audience should in consistency refuse to 
monopolize their time at all ! 

Practice will usually overcome this fault. When a 
man has stood a great many times before an audience 
without receiving any serious injury, and has a good 



VOICE AND GESTURE. 87 

purpose in thus claiming their attention, and something 
which he thinks they ought to hear, he will forget his 
fears and allow his mind to be engrossed, as that of a 
true speaker should be, with the subject he has in hand. 
Then all his gestures will have at least the grace of uncon- 
scious and spontaneous origination. 

But when fear has been overcome so that the speaker 
is not afraid to use his hands, he needs to enter upon a 
determined and comprehensive campaign against bad 
habits. If anything is truly natural — that is, true to 
the higher or universal nature — it will be beautiful ; but 
early examples are so often wrong and corrupting that 
it is hard to say what nature is : Nature may be a bad 
nature — the reflection of all that is low and sordid as 
well as that which is high and ennobling. That nature 
w r hich is in harmony with the sum of all things, which 
is the image of the Creator's perfectness, must be right 
and good ; but we must not too hastily conclude that any 
habits of our own have this high and unquestionable 
source. Hardly a speaker lives who does not at some 
time fall into unsightly or ridiculous habits. The dif- 
ference between men in this respect is that some steadily 
accumulate all the faults they ever have contracted, until 
the result is most repulsive ; while others, from the warn- 
ings of friends or their own observation, discover their 
errors and cast them off. 

A mode by which the solitary student may become 



88 VOICE AND GESTURE. 

acquainted with his faults, and from which he should not 
be driven by foolish ridicule, is by declaiming in as 
natural and forcible a manner as possible before a large 
mirror. Thus we may " see ourselves as others see us." 
Repeated practice in this manner will enable you to keep 
the necessary watch upon your motions, without so much 
distracting attention as to make the exercise before the 
glass no trustworthy specimen of ordinary habits. In 
speaking, you hear your own voice and thus become sen- 
sible of audible errors, but the glass is required to show 
improper movements that may have been unconsciously 
contracted. It is not advised that each speech, before 
delivery, should be practiced in front of the mirror. It 
is doubtful if such practice would not cherish a self- 
consciousness worse than all the errors it corrected. But 
the same objection would not apply to occasional decla- 
mations made for the very purpose of self-criticism. 

By these two processes— pressing out into action as 
freely as possible under the impulse of deep feeling, and 
by lopping off everything that is not graceful and ef- 
fective — we may soon attain a good style of gesture. 
"When the habit of suiting the action to the word is once 
fully formed, all anxiety on that subject may be dis- 
missed. The best gesticulation is entirely unconscious* 



CHAPTER X. 

Confidence. 

How may that boldness and confidence which is indis- 
pensable to an orator best be acquired? On your success 
in this direction, hinges all other kinds of improvement. 
So long as a nervous dread hangs about you, it will make 
the practice of extemporaneous speech painful and repul- 
sive, paralyzing all your faculties in the moment of 
utterance. 

You must acquire confidence in your own powers 
and be willing to trust to their guidance. 

But it is not necessary that you should exhibit or 
even feel this confidence at the beginning of a speech, for 
it may then appear like boastfulness or egotism. It is 
enough if you then have confidence in your subject, and 
in the fullness of your preparation. You may then with- 
out injury wish that some one, that you imagine more 
worthy, stood in your place. But if this feeling con- 
tinues all through the address, failure is inevitable. Many 
a man begins while trembling in every limb, especially 
if the occasion be of unusual character, but soon becomes 
inspired with his theme and forgets all anxiety. If youx 
fear be greater and more persistent, keeping you in per- 
petual terror, it will destroy all liberty and eloquence. 

89 



#0 CONFIDENCE. 

When laboring under such an influence, you lose self-pos 
session, become confused, all interest evaporates from your 
most carefully prepared thoughts, and you sit down at 
length, convinced that you have failed. It is but little 
consolation to believe that you had all the time in your 
brain the necessary power and material to achieve splen- 
did success, if you had but possessed the courage to use it» 
aright. 

There is no remedy for fear more effectual than to do 
all our work under the immediate inspiration of duty. 
This feeling is not the privilege of the minister alone, 
but of each one who is conscious that he occupies the place 
where he stands because it is his right to be there, be- 
cause he has some information to give, some cause to 
advocate, or some important task to do. With such 
consciousness we can speak our best, and finish with 
the satisfaction of having done our work as truly as if 
w r e had performed duty placed upon us in any other 
department of labor. But if we aim simply at making 
an exhibition of self and of showing our own skill and 
eloquence, then the smiles and frowns of the audience 
becomes a matter of overwhelming importance, and if 
we fail we are deeply mortified and bewail our foolish- 
ness in exposing ourselves to such needless risk. 

The lack of proper confidence is the great reason for 
using manuscript in the moment of speech. The speaker 
makes one effort to extemporize and fails. This is not 



CONFIDENCE. £i 

wonderful, for the path to success usually lies through 
failure from the time that we master the wonderful art 
of walking through many failures ; but instead of copying 
the school-boy motto, "try, try again," and reaping wis- 
, dom and experience from past efforts, he loses all hope — 
concludes that he is disqualified for that kind of work, 
and thus sinks to mediocrity and tameness, when he 
might have been brilliant in the fields of true oratory. 

The exhibition of confidence and resolution by the 
speaker is a draft drawn on the respect of an audience 
which is nearly always honored, while the opposite 
qualities hide the possession of real talent. Hearers 
readily pardon timidity at the beginning of an address, 
for then attention is fixed upon the speaker himself, and 
his shrinking seems a graceful exhibition of modesty. 
But when he has fully placed his subject before them 
they associate him with it. If he is dignified and 
assured, they listen in pleased attention and acknowledge 
the weight of his words. These qualities are very dif- 
ferent from bluster and bravado, which injure the cause 
advocated and excite disgust toward the speaker. The 
first appears to arise from a sense of the dignity of the 
subject; the second, from an assumption of personal 
superiority — an opinion no speaker has a right to enter- 
tain, for in the very act of addressing an audience he 
constitutes them his judges. 

An orator needs confidence in his own powers in order 



^2 CONFIDENCE. 

to avail himself fully of the suggestions of the moment. 
Some of the best thoughts he will ever think flash upon 
him while speaking, and are out of the line of his prep- 
aration. There is no time to carefully weigh them. He 
must reject them immediately or begin to follow, not 
knowing whither they lead, and this in audible words, 
with the risk that he may be landed in some absurdity. 
He cannot pause for a moment, as the least hesitation 
breaks the spell he has woven around his hearers, while 
if he rejects the offered idea he may lose a genuine inspi- 
ration. One searching glance that will not allow time 
for his own feelings or those of his auditors to cool, and 
then — decision to reject, or to follow the new track with 
the same assurance as if the end were clearly in view — 
this is all that is possible. It requires some boldness to 
pursue the latter course, and yet every speaker knows 
that his highest efforts — efforts that have seemed beyond 
his normal power, and which have done more in a 
minute to gain the object for which he spoke than all 
the remainder of the discourse — have been of this 
character. 

It also requires a good degree of confidence to firmly 
begin a sentence, even when the general idea is plain, 
without knowing just how it will end. This difficulty 
is experienced sometimes even by the most fluent. A 
iman may learn to cast sentences very rapidly, but it will 
take a little time to pass them through his mind, and 



CONFIDENCE. 93 

"when one is finished, the next may not yet have fully 
condensed itself into words. To begin to utter a partially 
constructed sentence, uncertain how it will end, and press 
on without letting the people see any hesitation, demands 
no small confidence in one's power of commanding words 
and framing sentences. Yet a bold and confident speaker 
need feel no uneasiness. He may prolong a pause while 
he is thinking of a needed word, or throw in something 
extraneous to fill up the time till the right term and con- 
struction are found. Yet the perfect remedy for these 
dangers is to learn the difficult art of standing before an 
audience with nothing to say and making the pause as 
effective as any phage of speech. This can be done, dan- 
gerous as it seems. It does require far more of courage 
to face an audience when the mouth is empty than when 
we are talking ; the mettle of troops is never so severely 
tried as when their cartridge-boxes are empty; but all 
the resources of eloquence are not at command until this 
test can be calmly and successfully endured. An eminent 
speaker once said to a friend after a very successful 
effort, " What part of the address you have been prais- 
ing most impressed you ?" " It was not anything you 
said" was the reply, " but the thrilling pause you made 
of nearly half a minute after a bold assertion, as if you 
were challenging any one to rise and deny what you had 
asserted." " Oh ! I remember," returned the other ; " I 
could not get the next sentence fixed quite right, and was 



.94 CONFIDENCE. 

fully determined not to say it at all unless it came into 
the proper shape." 

This necessary confidence can be cultivated by striving 
to exercise it, and by assuming its appearance where the 
reality is not. The raw recruit is transformed into a 
veteran soldier by meeting and overcoming danger. All 
the drill in the world will not supply the want of actual 
experience on the battle-field. So the extempore speaker 
must make up his mind to accept all the risk, and 
patiently endure all the failures and perils that result. 
If he fully decides that the reward is worthy of the 
effort he will be greatly aided in the attempt, a,s he will 
thus avoid the wavering and shrinking and questioning 
that would otherwise distress him and paralyze his pow- 
ers. A failure will but lead to stronger and more per- 
sistent effort, made with added experience. Success will 
be an argument for future confidence, and thus any 
result will forward him on his course. 

In regard to the difficulty of framing sentences in 
the moment of utterance, the experienced speaker will 
become so expert, having found his way through so 
many difficulties of that kind, that the greatest danger 
experienced will be that of carelessly allowing his words 
to flow on without unity or polish. It does require a 
determined effort, not merely to express meaning, but to 
pack and compress the greatest possible amount into 
striking and crystalline words. Experience also gives 



CONFIDENCE. 95 

him such a knowledge of the working of his own 
thoughts that he will be able to decide at the first sug- 
gestion what unbidden ideas should be accepted and what 
ones should be rejected. If these new thoughts, how- 
ever far outside of his preparation, seem worthy, he will 
give them instant expression; if not, he will dismiss 
them and continue unchecked along his intended route. 

It is hoped that the reading of this treatise will in- 
crease the confidence of extempore speakers in two ways; 
first, by producing in the mind of each one perfect con- 
viction that for him the better way is to adopt unwritten 
speech without reserve; and second, by pointing out a 
mode of preparation which will give as good ground for 
confidence as a fully written manuscript could possibly 
supply. To gain confidence w T hich is not warranted by 
the event would only provoke a hurtful reaction; but 
confidence which is justified by experience grows ever 
stronger. 

We have thus glanced at a few of the qualities which 
need to be cultivated and strengthened for the purposes 
of public speech. The survey does not cover the whole 
field of desirable qualities, for this would be to give a 
treatise on general education. Perfect speech requires 
every faculty of the mind to be brought to the highest 
state of efficiency. There is no mental power which will 
not contribute to success. The whole limits of possible 
education are comprised in the two branches already men- 



96 CONFIDENCE. 

tioned as concerning the orator — those relating to the 
reception of knowledge and those to its communication. 
The harmonious combination and perfect development 
of these two is the ideal of excellence — an ideal so high 
that it can only be approached. All knowledge is of use 
to the orator. He may not have occasion to employ it 
in a particular speech, but it contributes to give certainty, 
breadth, and scope to his views, and assures him that 
what he does put into his speeches is the best that can 
be selected. If he is ignorant, he is obliged to use for a 
discourse on any subject not that material which is the 
best in itself, but simply the best that may happen to be 
known to him, and he cannot be sure that something far 
more suitable is not overlooked. 

The communicating faculties are, if possible, still more 
important. A great part of the value even of a diamond 
depends upon its polish and setting, and the richest and 
wisest thoughts fail to reach the heart or captivate the 
intellect unless they are cast into the proper form ; and 
given external beauty. 

Let the speaker, then, have no fear of knowing too 
much. Neither need he despair if he does not now know 
a great deaL He cannot be perfect at once, but must 
build for future years. If he wishes a sudden and local 
celebrity that will never widen, but will probably molder 
away even in his own lifetime, he may possibly gain it in 
another way. Let him learn a few of the externals of elo- 



CONFIDENCE. 



9Y 



cution, and then, with great care, or by the free use of the 
materials of others, prepare a few finely worded dis- 
courses, and recite or declaim them over and over again 
as often as he can find a new audience. He may not 
gain as much applause as he desires by this method, 
but it will be sufficiently evanescent. He will not grow 
up to the measure of real greatness, but become daily 
more dwarfed and stereotyped in intellect. 

The following quotation contains a good example of 
the seductive but misleading methods sometimes held up 
before the young orator : " They talk," said Tom Mar- 
shall to an intimate friend, " of my astonishing bursts 
of eloquence, and doubtless imagine it is my genius bub- 
bling over. It is nothing of the sort. I'll tell you how 
I do it : I select a subject and study it from the ground 
up. "When I have mastered it fully, I write a speech 
on it. Then I take a walk and come back, and revise 
and correct. In a few days I subject it to another 
pruning, and then recopy it. Next I add the finishing 
touches, round it off with graceful periods, and commit 
it to memory. Then I speak it in the fields, in my 
father's lawn, and before my mirror, until gesture and 
delivery are perfect, It sometimes takes me six wee&s 
or two months to get up a speech. When I am prepared 
I come to town. I generally select a court day, when 
there is sure to be a crowd. I am called on for a speechj 
and am permitted to select my own subject. I speak my 



W CONFIDENCE. 

piece. It astonishes the people, as I intended it should, 
and they go away marveling at my power of oratory. 
They call it genius, but it is the hardest kind of work." 

No objection is made to the quantity of work thus 
described, but might not the same amount be expended 
in more profitable directions ? A speech thus prepared 
was a mere trick intended to astonish the people. Some- 
times the great Daniel Webster took equal pains in the 
verbal expression of some worthy thought, which was 
afterward held in the grasp of a powerful memory until 
a fitting place was found for it in some masterly speech* 
The difference between the two processes is greater than 
seems at first glance. Marshall's plan was like a beau- 
tiful garment thrown over a clothes dummy in a shop 
window; Webster's, like the same garment, worn for 
comfort and ornament by a living man. 

It is better that the speaker should " intermeddle with 
all knowledge/' and make the means of communicating 
his thoughts as perfect as possible. Then out of the 
fullness of his treasure, let him talk to the people with 
an adequate purpose in view, and if no sudden acclaim 
greets him, he will be weighty and influential from the 
first, and each passing year will add to his power. 



CHAPTER XI. 

The Pen and the Tongue. 

It does not follow from anything we have said thai 
the pen should be discarded by the extempore speaker. 
Because he is not obliged to write each word, he should 
not feel excused from writing altogether. Few greater 
misfortunes could happen to a speaker than being 
deprived of the power of recording and preserving notes 
for the purposes of oratory. The most tenacious mem- 
ory is burdened by the weight of a large number oi" 
intended discourses, especially if they are long and com- 
plex. No person can feel sure that he will remember 
all parts of the speech he intended to utter even in out- 
line, unless it has been reduced to regular form so that 
one part will suggest another. In going to a store to 
purchase a few articles the pen is very useful in making 
a memorandum ; if the errand boy neglects that precau- 
tion some of the most essential things may be forgotten. 
Among illiterate people a great many mnemonic signs 
have been employed, such as associating things to be 
remembered with the fingers, etc. ; but among intelligent 
persons all of these have been superseded by the use of 
writing, and it would be very absurd to advocate a 

return to the old modes on the plea that the memory 

99 



100 THE PEN AND THE TONGUE. 

might be so strengthened that all items could be safely 
remembered. The reply would be ready : " Yes, it is 
possible ; but we have a far better and less burdensome 
way of accomplishing the same object and have no 
motive in returning to the more difficult mode." Thus 
while it may be possible to arrange in the mind all the 
outlines of a long discourse, it is not easy to do it, and 
there is no gain in the extra labor involved. Everything 
bearing upon a discourse may be written in brief outline, 
and then a selection made of what is best, throwing out 
all other portions. The remainder can then be far bet- 
ter arranged when in such a position that the eye as well 
as the mind can glance at it. The preparation for the 
intended speech thus assumes the shape of a miniature 
or outline, and may be filled out at any point which 
needs strengthening. 

But even if it were possible to construct the plan and 
speak well without any previous use of the pen, this 
would, in the majority of cases, be insufficient. The 
orator needs to preserve the materials, if not the form of 
his oration, either for use in future speeches or for com- 
parison with later efforts. It is very wasteful to throw 
away valuable material once accumulated, and then 
search the same ground over again when required to 
treat the same topic. This would be acting in the spirit of 
the savage who eats enough to satisfy his appetite and 
throws away all that remains, as he feels no further need 



THE PEN AND THE TONGUE. 101 

for it, and only begins to gather again when hunger 
spurs him to exertion. 

The pen is the instrument of accumulation and pres- 
ervation, and should be diligently employed. No speaker 
can rise to permanent greatness without it. The in- 
stances given to the contrary are mere delusions or 
evasions. If the service of other pens can be em- 
ployed, as in the case of short-hand reporters and 
amanuenses, this is but doing the same thing under 
another form. 

The principal purpose of the chapters that follow 
is to show how the pen may be used in such a 
manner as to preserve and arrange all the material we 
may gather, elaborate, or originate on any subject, 
so as to bring to the moment of unfettered extempore 
speech all the certainty of result and accumulated power 
of which our faculties are capable. 

Bacon says : " Reading makes a full man, writing an 
exact man, and conference a ready man/' All these 
means should be used and all these qualities attained by 
the eloquent speaker. 



CHAPTER XII. 

Subject and Object. 

We now enter upon the most practical part of our 
subject. We have seen what natural qualities are indis- 
pensable, and how these, when possessed, can be improved 
by training. The importance of a wide scope of knowl- 
edge bearing upon oratory, and of understanding and 
having some command of the powers of language has 
been pointed out. When a man has all of these, and is 
still a diligent student growing daily in knowledge, he 
is ready to consider the methods by which all his gifts 
and acquirements may be concentrated upon a single 
speech. Some of the directions in this and the imme- 
diately succeeding chapters are of universal application, 
while others are thrown out as mere suggestions to be 
modified and changed according to individual taste or 
particular circumstances. 

A plan is necessary for every kind of speech. A rude 
mass of brick, lumber, mortar, and iron, thrown together 
as the materials chance to be furnished, does not consti^ 
tute a house until each item is built into its own place 
according to some intelligent design. A speech has the 
same need of organization. A few minutes of desultory 
talk, whether uttered in a low or high voice, to one per- 

102 



SUBJECT AND OBJECT. 103 

eon or to many, does not make a speech. The talk may be 
good, or useful, or striking : it maybe replete with spark- 
ling imagery, and full of valuable ideas that command 
attention, and yet be no real discourse. The question, 
" What was all this about ? what end did the speaker have 
in view?" is a fatal condemnation. The subject and 
object of every discourse should be perfectly obvious- — 
if not at the opening, surely at the close of the address. 
The only safe method is to have a well-defined plan 
marked out from beginning to end, and then to bring 
every part of the work into subordination to one leading 
idea. The plan itself should be constructed with some 
clear object in view. 

It is better that this construction of the plan should 
be completed before delivery begins. If you are sud- 
denly called to speak on some topic you have often 
thought over, the whole outline of the address, with a 
plan perfect in every part, may flash upon you in a 
moment, and you may speak as well as if you had been 
allowed months for preparation. But such cases are rare 
exceptions. The man who attempts, on the spur of the 
moment, to arrange his facts, draw his inferences, and en- 
force his opinions, will usually find the task very difficult, 
even if the topic is within his mental grasp, and his mem- 
ory promptly furnishes him with all necessary materials. 

We will now consider the subject and object which 
every true discourse, whatever its character, must possess. 



104 SUBJECT AXD OBJECT. 

First, as to the object : why is it that at a particular 
time an audience assembles and sits in silence, while one 
man standing up, talks to them ? What is his motive in 
thus claiming their attention ? Many of them may have 
come from mere impulse, of which they could give no 
rational explanation, but the speaker at least should have 
a definite purpose. 

A clear aim tends powerfully to give unity and con- 
sistency to the whole discourse, and to prevent him from 
wandering into endless digressions. It binds all detached 
parts together and infuses a common life through his 
address. Such a ruling aim cannot be too definitely 
recognized and carefully kept in view, for it is the foun- 
dation of the whole discourse. 

This object should not be too general in character. It 
is not enough that we wish to please or to do good : it 
may be safely assumed that speakers generally wish to 
do both. But how shall these ends be reached? 
" What special good do I hope to accomplish by this 
address ?" 

When you have made the object definite, you are bet- 
ter prepared to adapt all available means to its accom- 
plishment. It should also be stated that the more 
objects are subdivided the more precision will be aug- 
mented, though there is a limit beyond which such 
division would be at the expense of other qualities. 

Your object will usually have reference to the opinion 



SUBJECT AND OBXECT. 105 

or the action of those addressed, and the firmer your 
own conviction of the truth of that opinion, or the desi- 
rableness of that action, the greater, other things being 
equal, your persuasive power will be. If you do not 
know exactly what you wish, there is little probability 
that your audience will care to interpret your thought ; 
they will take it for granted that you really mean noth- 
ing, and even if you do incidentally present some truth 
supported by good arguments, they will consider it a mat- 
ter not calling for any immediate consideration or definite 
decision on their part. 

The speaker's objects are comparatively few and are 
often determined by his very position and employment. 
If you are engaged in a political canvass you are seek- 
ing to confirm and retain the votes of your own party, 
while persuading over to your side the opposition. 
"Votes constitute the object you seek, and to win them is 
your purpose. But there are many ways by which that 
desirable end may be accomplished — some wise and 
noble, others ignoble. But a political orator will gain 
in power by keeping clearly in view his purpose and 
rejecting from his speeches all things that merely arouse 
and embitter opponents, without, at the same time, con- 
tributing to strengthen the hold of the speaker's own 
party upon its members. 

If you are a lawyer you wish to win your case. The 
judge's charge, the jury's verdict, are your objective points, 



106 SUBJECT AND OBJECT. 

and all mere display which does not contribute directly 
or indirectly to these ends is worse than wasted, as it may 
even interfere with your real purpose. 

Much of your success will depend upon keeping the 
right object before you at the right time. If you aim 
at that which is unattainable, the effort is not only lost, 
but the object which you could have reached may in the 
meantime have passed out of your reach. Everyb6dy 
has heard ministers arguing against some forms of unbe- 
lief which their hearers know nothing about. This is 
worse than useless ; it may suggest the very errors in- 
tended to be refuted ; and if this does not result, to think 
that the refutation will be stored up until the time when 
the errors themselves may be encountered, is to take a 
most flattering view of the length of time during which 
sermons as well as other discourses are remembered. 
You may avoid these errors by selecting some object 
which is practicable at the moment of utterance : the 
first right step makes all after success possible. 

There is a difference between the object of a speech 
and its subject ; the former is the motive that impels us 
to speak, while the latter is what we speak about. It is 
not uncommon for talkers to have a subject without any 
definite object, unless it be the very general one of com- 
plying with a form or fulfilling an engagement. When 
the period for the talk comes — it would not be right to 
call it a speech — -they take the easiest subject they can 



SUBJECT AND OBJECT. 107 

find, express all the ideas they happen to have about 
it, and leave the matter. Until such persons become in 
earnest, and get a living object, true eloquence is utterly 
impossible. 

The object of a discourse is the soul, while the subject 
is but the body ; or, as we may say, the one is the end, 
while the other is the means by which it is accomplished. 
After the object is clearly realized by the speaker, he can 
choose the subject to much better advantage. It may 
happen that one object is so much more important than 
all other practicable ones that it forces itself irresistibly 
on his attention and thus saves the labor of choice ; at 
other times he may have several different objects with 
no particular reason for preferring one of them in the 
order of time to another. In this case if a subject fills 
his mind it will be well to discuss it with an aim toward 
the object which may be best enforced by its means. 

After all, it makes but little difference which of these 
two is chosen first. It is enough that when you under- 
take to speak you have a subject you fully understand, 
and an object that warms your heart and enlists all your 
powers. You can then speak, not as one who deals with 
abstractions, but as having a living mission to perform. 

It is important that each subject should be complete 
in itself, and rounded off from everything else. Its 
boundaries should be run with such precision as to 
include all that belongs to it, but nothing more. It is a 



108 SUBJECT AND OBJECT. 

common but grievous fault to have the same sast of 
ideas llowing around every subject. There are few 
things in the universe which have not some relation to 
everything else. If we do not, therefore, very strictly 
bound our subject, we will find ourselves bringing the 
same matter into each discourse and perpetually repeating 
our thoughts. If ingenious in that matter, we may find 
a good excuse for getting our favorite anecdotes and 
brilliant ideas into connection with the most opposite 
kinds of subjects. An old minister once gave me an 
amusing account of the manner in which he made out- 
lines of the sermons of a local celebrity. The first one 
was a very able discourse, with three principal divisions 
— man's fallen estate, the glorious means provided for his 
recovery, and the fearful consequences of neglecting 
those means. Liking the sermon very well, my infor- 
mant went to hear the same man again. The text was 
new, but the first proposition, was man's fallen estate ; 
the second, the glorious means provided for his recovery ; 
and the last, the fearful consequences of neglecting those 
means. Thinking that the repetition was an accident, 
another trial was made. The text was at as great a 
remove as possible from the other two. The first pro- 
position was, man's fallen estate ; and the others followed 
in due order. This was an extreme instance of a com- 
mon fault, which is by no means confined to the ministry. 
When an eloquent Congressman was once delivering a 



SUBJECT AND OBJECT. 109 

great address, a member on the opposite benches rubbed 
his hands in apparently ecstatic delight, and remarked in 
a stage whisper, " Oh ! how I have always loved to h^a? 
that speech I" In a book of widely circulated sermon 
sketches, nearly every one begins by asserting that man 
has fallen and needs the helps or is liable to the evils 
mentioned afterward. No doubt this primary statement 
is important, but it might sometimes be taken for 
granted. The fault which we have here pointed out is 
not uncommon in preaching. Occasionally ministers 
acquire such a stereotyped form of expression that what 
they say in one sermon is sure to recur, perhaps in a 
modified form, in all others. This is intolerable. There 
is an end to the patience of man. He tires of the same 
old ideas, and wishes, when a new text is taken, that it 
may bring with it some novelty in the sermon. The 
remedy against the evil under consideration is found in 
the careful selection and definition of subjects. Give to 
each its own territory and guard rigidly against all tres- 
passers. A speaker should not only see that what he 
says has some kind of connection with the subject in 
hand, but that it has a closer connection with that subject 
than any other he may be called upon to discuss at or 
near the same time. A very great lecturer advertises a 
number of lectures upon topics that seem to be totally 
independent. Yet all the lectures are but one, except a 
few paragraphs in the introduction of each. This is 



HO SUBJECT AND OBJECT. 

r^iijy a less fault in the case of an itinerating lecturer 
than in most other fields of oratory, as the same people 
h Q &i the lecture but once. Yet even then the false 
gumption of intellectual riches implied in the numerous 
titles cannot be justified. 

The subject should be so well defined that we always 
know just what we are speaking about. It may be of 
a general nature, but our knowledge of it should be clear 
and adequate. This is more necessary in an extempore 
than in a written speech, though the want of it will be 
severely felt in the latter also. A strong, vividly defined 
subject will give unity to the whole discourse, and prob- 
ably leave a permanent impression on the mind of the 
hearer. To aid in securing this it will be well to reduce 
every subject to its simplest form, and then, by writing 
it as a compact phrase or sentence, stamp it on the mind, 
and let it ring in every utterance ; that is, let each word 
aid in carrying out the central idea, or in leading up to 
it. Those interminable discourses that begin anywhere 
and lead nowhere, may be called speeches or sermons, by 
courtesy, but they are not such. 

To always preserve this unity of theme and treat- 
ment is not easy, and calls, often, for the exercise of 
heroic self-denial. To see in the mind's eye what we 
know would please and delight listeners, pander to their 
prejudices, or gain uproarious applause, and then turn 
away with the words unspoken, merely because it is 



SUBJECT AND OBJECT. Ill 

foreign to our subject — this is as sore a trial as for a 
miser on a sinking ship to abandon his gold. But it is 
equally necessary, if we would not fall into grave rhe- 
torical errors. Any speech which is constructed on the 
plan of putting into it all the wise or witty or pleasing 
things the speaker can think of will be a mere mass of 
more or less foolish talk. Shakespeare is often re- 
proached with having negleted the dramatic unities of 
place and time; but he never overlooked the higher 
unities of subject and object. These remarks do not 
imply that illustration should be discarded or even used 
sparingly. The whole realm of nature may be ransacked 
for these gems, and if they do illustrate, they are often 
better than statement or argument. If the thing to be 
illustrated belongs to the subject, then every apt illustra- 
tion of it also belongs there. 

It is possible that men of genius may neglect the unity 
of subject and object, and still succeed by sheer intellec- 
tual force, as they might do under any other circum- 
stances. But ordinary men cannot with safety follow 
the example of Sidney Smith. His hearers complained 
that he did not " stick to his text," and, that he might 
reform the more easily, they suggested that he should 
divide his sermons as other ministers did. He promised 
to gratify them, and the next Sabbath, after reading his 
text, he began : " We will divide our discourse this 
morning into three parts : in the first place, we will go 



112 SUBJECT AND OBJECT. 

up to our text ; in the second place,, we will go through 
it ; and in the third place, we will go from it." There 
was general agreement that he succeeded best on the last 
head, but preachers who are not confident of possessing 
his genius had better confine themselves to the former 
two. 

A true discourse is the orderly development of some 
one thought or idea with so much clearness and power 
that it may ever after live as a point of light in the 
memory. Other ideas may cluster around the central 
one, but it must reign supreme. If the discourse fails 
in this particular nothing else can redeem it. Brilliancy 
of thought and illustration will be as completely wasted 
as a sculptor's art on a block of clay. 

A man of profound genius once arose to preach before 
a great assemblage, and every breath was hushed. He 
spoke with pov/er, and many of his passages were of 
thrilling eloquence. He poured forth beautiful images 
and solemn thoughts with the utmost profusion; yet 
when at the end of an hour he took his seat, the prevail- 
ing sentiment was one of disappointment. The address 
was confused— -utterly destitute of any point of union to 
which the memory could cling. Many of his statements 
were clear and impressive, but he did not make evident 
what he was talking about. It was an impressive 
warning against erecting a building before laying & 
foundation. 



CHAPTER XIIL 

Thought-gathering. 

After the subject upon which we are to speak has been 
determined the logical order of preparation is, first, 
gathering material ; second, selecting what is most fitting 
and arranging the whole into perfect order ; third, fixing 
this in the mind so that it may be available for the 
moment of use. These processes are not always sepa- 
rated in practice, but they may be best considered in the 
order indicated. 

When a subject is chosen and the mind fastened upon 
it, that subject becomes a center of attraction and natur- 
ally draws all kindred ideas toward it. Old memories 
that had become dim from the lapse of time are slowly 
hunted out and grouped around the parent thought. 
Each hour of contemplation that elapses, even if there 
is not direct study, adds to the richness and variety of 
our available mental stores. The relations between dif- 
ferent and widely separated truths become visible, just as 
new stars are seen when we gaze intently toward the 
evening sky. All that lies within our knowledge is 
subjected to a rigid scrutiny and all that appears to have 
any connection with the subject is brought into view. 
Usually a considerable period of time is needed for this 

113 



114 THOUGHT-GATHERING. 

process, and the longer it is continued the better, if in- 
terest in the subject is not suffered to decline in the mean- 
while. 

But it is somewhat difficult to continue at this work 
long enough without weariness. The capacity for great 
and continuous reaches of thought constitutes a princi- 
pal element in the superiority of one mind over another. 
Even the mightiest genius cannot, at a single impulse, 
exhaust the ocean of truth that opens around every 
object of man's contemplation. It is only by viewing a 
subject in every aspect that superficial and one-sided 
impressions can be guarded against. But the continuous 
exertion and toil this implies are nearly always distaste- 
ful, and the majority of men can only accomplish it by 
a stern resolve. Whether acquired or natural, the 
ability to completely " think out " a subject is of prime 
necessity ; the young student at the outset should learn 
to finish every investigation he begins and continue the 
habit during life. Doing this or not doing it will gen- 
erally be decisive of his success or failure from an intel- 
lectual point of view. Thought is a mighty architect, 
and if you keep him fully employed, he will build up 
with slow and measured strokes a gorgeous edifice upon 
any territory at all within your mental range. You 
may weary of his labor and think that the wall rises so 
slowly that it will never be completed ; but wait. In 
due time, if you are patient, all will be finished and will 



THOUGHT-GATHERING. 1 1 5 

then stand as no ephemeral structure, to be swept away 
by the first storm that blows, but will be established and 
unshaken on the basis of eternal truth. 

M. Bautain compares the accumulation of thought 
around a subject upon which the mind thus dwells with 
the development of organic life by continuous growth 
from an almost imperceptible germ. Striking as is the 
analogy, there is one point of marked dissimilarity. 
This growth of thought is voluntary and may easily be 
arrested at any stage. The introduction of a new sub- 
ject or cessation of effort on the old is fatal. To prevent 
this and keep the mind employed until its work is done 
requires with most persons a regular and formal system. 
Profound thinkers, who take up a subject and cannot 
leave it until it is traced into all its intricate relations 
and comprehended in every part, and who have at the 
same time the power of easily recalling long trains of 
thought that have once passed through their mind, have 
less need of an artificial method. But their case is not 
that of the majority of thinkers or speakers. 

We will give a method found useful for securing 
abundant speech materials, and allow others to adopt it 
as far as it may prove advantageous to them. 

The things we actually know are not always kept 
equally in view. Sometimes we may see an idea with 
great clearness and after a time lose it again, while 
another, at first invisible, comes into sight. Each idea 



116 THOUGHT-GATHERING. 

should be secured when it occurs. Let each thought 
that arises on the subject you intend to^discuss be noted. 
A word or a brief sentence sufficient to recall the con- 
ception to your own mind will be enough, and no labor 
need be expended on composition or expression. After 
this first gathering, let the paper be laid aside and the 
subject be recommitted to the mind for further reflection. 
As other ideas arise let them be noted down in the same 
manner and the process be thus continued for days 
together. Sometimes new images and conceptions will 
continue to float into the mind for weeks. Most persons 
who have not tried this process of accumulation will be 
surprised to find how many thoughts they have on the 
simplest topic. If some of this gathered matter remains 
vague and shadowy, it will only be necessary to give it 
more time and more earnest thought and all obscurity 
will vanish. 

At last there comes the consciousness that the mind's 
power on that particular theme is exhausted. If we 
also feel that we have all the material needed, one step 
further only remains in this part of the work ; the com- 
parison of our treasures with what others have accom- 
plished in the same field. It may be that this compari- 
son will show the worthlessness of much of our own 
material, but it is better to submit to the humiliation 
involved and be sure that we have the best that can be 
furnished by other minds as well as our own. If we 



THOUGHT-GATHERING. 117 

prefer, we may speak when we have gathered only the 
materials that are already within our ow r n grasp and 
thus have a greater consciousness of originality, but 
such consciousness is a delusion unless based upon 
exhaustive research. Nearly all that w T e thus gather 
will be the result of previous reading, and almost the 
only thing in its favor over the fresh accumulations that 
we make by reading directly in the line of our subject, 
is the probability that the former knowledge will be 
better digested. 

But more frequently, after the young orator has recol- 
lected and briefly noted ail that bears upon his subject 
with which his own mind furnishes him, there remains 
a sense of incompleteness, and he is driven to seek a 
further supply. He is now hungry for new informa- 
tion, and on this state there is an intellectual blessing 
corresponding to the moral blessing pronounced upon 
those who hunger and thirst after righteousness. He 
reads the works of those w T ho have treated the same or 
related topics, converses with well-informed persons, 
observes the world closely, still putting down every new 
idea that seems to bear upon his theme. Whenever an 
idea is found which supplies a felt want, it is received 
with great joy. It often happens that instead of finding 
the very thing sought for he strikes upon the first link 
of some chain of thoughts in his own mind that leads up 
to w T hat he desires, but has hitherto overlooked. The 



118 THOUGHT-GATHERING. 

new idea is only the more valued when it has thus beeis 
traced out. 

Now, we have on paper, and often after much toil, a 
number of confused, unarranged notes. They are desti- 
tute of polish, and no more constitute a speech than the 
piles of brick and lumber a builder accumulates consti- 
tute a house. Indeed, this comparison is too favorable, 
for the builder has carefully calculated just what he 
needs for his house, and has ordered those very things. 
But usually we have in our notes much that can be of 
no use, and at whatever sacrifice of feeling it must be 
thrown out. This is a matter of great importance. It 
has been said that the principal difference between the 
conversation of a wise man and of a fool is that the one 
speaks all that is in his mind, while the other gives utter- 
ance only to carefully selected thoughts. Nearly all 
men have at times ideas that would please and profit any 
audience ; and if these are carefully weeded out from the 
puerilities by which they may be surrounded, the re- 
mainder will be far more valuable than the whole mass. 
Everything not in harmony with the controlling object 
or purpose must be thrown away at whatever sacrifice 
of feeling. Read carefully your scattered notes after the 
fervor of pursuit has subsided and erase every phrase 
that is unfitting. If but little remains you can continue 
the search as at first, and erase and search again, until 
you have all that you need of matter truly relevant to 



« THOUGHT-GATHERING, 119 

the subject. Yet it is not well to be over-fastidious. 
This would prevent speech altogether, or make the work 
of preparation so slow and wearisome that when the 
hour of effort arrived, all freshness and vigor would be 
gone. A knight in Spenser's " Faery Queen " entered 
an enchanted castle and as he passed through eleven 
rooms in succession he saw written on the walls of each 
the words, " Be bold ;" but on the twelfth the inscription 
changed to the advice of equal wisdom, " Be not too 
bold." The same injunctions are appropriate to the 
orator. He should be careful in the selection of his 
material, but not too careful. Many things which a 
finical taste might reject are allowable and very effective. 
No definite rule, however, can be given on the subject, 
as it is a matter of taste rather than of calculation. 



CHAPTER XIV. 
Constructing a Plan. 

The thoughts which have been gathered in the modes 
pointed out in the last chapter are now to be arranged 
in the most effective order. It will not usually do to 
begin a speech with those things we happen to first 
think of, and proceed to others that are less obvious. 
This would lead to an anti-climax fatal to eloquence. 
A speaker who adopted this mode once complained 
that his speeches often seemed to taper to a very fine 
point, and that he lost all interest in them before finish- 
ing. The explanation was simple ; he uttered first those 
thoughts which were familiar to himself and came after- 
ward to those which had been sought out by more or 
less painful effort, and which seemed less certain and 
valuable. The remedy for this fault is found in care- 
ful arrangement. The most familiar thoughts will 
naturally be jotted down first, but it does not follow 
that they should occupy the same place in the finished 
plan of the speech. 

The true mode of improving your plans is to bestow 

a great deal of time and thought upon them, and to 

make no disposition of any part for which you cannot 

give a satisfactory reason. This direction relates only 

120 



CONSTRUCTING A PLAN. 121 

to the beginner. In time the formation of plans will 
become so natural that any variation from the most 
effective arrangement will be felt as keenly as a discord 
in music is felt by a master in that art. From such 
carefully constructed plans, firm, coherent, and logical 
discourses will result. 

There are certain general characteristics that each plan 
should possess. It must fully indicate the nature of the 
proposed discourse and mark out each of its successive 
steps with accuracy. Any want of definiteness in the 
outline is a fatal defect. You must feel that you can 
rely absolutely on it for guidance to the end of your 
discourse or be always in danger of embarrassment and 
confusion. 

Each clause should express a distinct idea, and but 
one. This should be repeated in no other part of the 
discourse ; otherwise, we fall into wearisome repetitions, 
the great vice, as it is often claimed, of extempore 
speakers. 

A brief plan is better, other things being equal, than 
a long one. Often a single word will recall an idea as 
perfectly as many sentences, and it will burden the 
memory less. We do not expect the draft of a house to 
equal the house in size, but only to preserve a propor- 
tionate relation to it throughout. The plan cannot 
supply the thought, but, indicating what is in the mind, 
it shows how to bring it forth in regular succession. It 



122 CONSTRUCTING A PLAN. 

is a pathway leading to a definite end, and, like all path- 
ways, its crowning merits are directness and smoothness. 
"Without these qualities it will perplex and hinder rather 
than aid. Each word in the plan should suggest an 
idea, and be so firmly bound to that idea that the two 
cannot become separated in any exigency of speech. You 
will find it sorely perplexing if, in the heat of discourse, 
some important note should lose the thought for which 
it previously stood and become an empty word. But 
with clear conceptions condensed into fitting words this 
cannot easily happen. A familiar idea can be expressed 
very briefly, while a strange or new conception may 
require more expansion. But all thoughts advanced by 
the speaker ought to be familiar to himself as the result 
of long meditation and thorough mastery, no matter how 
strange or startling they are to his hearers. Most skele- 
tons may be brought within the compass of a hundred 
words, and every part be clearly indicated to the mind 
that conceived it, though perhaps not to any other. 

There may be occasions when a speaker is justified in 
announcing his divisions and subdivisions, but such 
cases are exceptions. Hearers do not care how a dis- 
course is constructed, so it comes to them warm and 
pulsating with life. To give the plan of a speech before 
the speech itself is contrary to the order of nature. We 
are not required first to look upon a grisly skeleton 
before we can see a graceful, living body. There is a 



CONSTRUCTING A PLAN. 128 

skeleton inside each body, but during life it is well 
hidden, and there is no reason that the speaker should 
anticipate the work of the tomb. It is hardly less 
objectionable to name the parts of the discourse during 
the progress of the discussion, for — continuing the former 
illustration — bones that project through the skin are 
very unlovely. The only case, I presume to think, 
where it is justifiable to name the parts of a discourse, 
either before or during its delivery, is where the sepa- 
rate parts have an importance of their own, in addition 
to their office of contributing to the general object. 
Much of the proverbial " dryness" of sermons arises 
from the preacher telling what he is about to remark, 
firstly, before he actually makes the remark thus num- 
bered. Whenever we hear a minister read his text, 
announce his theme, state the parts into which he means 
to divide it, and then warn us that the first head will be 
subdivided into a certain number of parts, each of which 
is also specified in advance, we prepare our endurance for 
a severe test. 



CHAPTER XV. 
How Shall the Written Plan be Used? 

Now that the plan is completed and fully written out, 
the next question arises as to what shall be done with 
it. It may either be used or abused. To read it to 
the audience or exhibit it to them would be an obvious 
abuse. Possibly if the speaker possessed a large black- 
board, the latter course might, in special cases, have some 
advantages. But even then it is better that the students 
should, in most instances, exercise their own ingenuity 
in gathering out of the body of the speech the central 
thoughts which they wish to preserve in their note- 
books, than that the work should be done for them in 
advance by having the whole plan of the lecture placed 
in their sight. 

The writer has experimented on this subject by repeat- 
ing the same lecture to different classes with the outline in 
some cases exposed to view, and in the others concealed : 
the interest has always seemed to be greater, and the 
understanding more complete in the latter case. If this 
is true where instruction is the only aim, it is still more 
necessary where persuasion is the object of the speaker. 
The exposing in advance of the means by which he 
intends to work, will put on their guard the very per- 

124 



USING THE WRITTEN PLAN. 125 

sons whose hearts he wishes to capture, and thus lose him 
all that advantage of surprise which is often as moment- 
ous in oratorical as in military affairs. 

There are two other ways of using the plan to be 
considered. One is to keep it in the speaker's sight, so 
that he may step along from one item to another, thus 
keeping a foundation of written words in the midst of 
the uncertainty of his extemporaneous efforts, like that 
afforded by stepping-stones to a man crossing a running 
stream. There are some advantages in such use. The 
speaker will feel freer in making those pauses which are 
sometimes necessary for the sake of emphasis. He is 
better able to collect his scattered ideas in case any- 
untoward circumstance should break the thread of his 
discourse. If he is confused for a moment, he may look 
down to his paper and recover himself, while if thoughts 
and words flow easily he can ignore the plan which lies 
before him. 

But all the reasons for thus using the plan are the 
most emphatic condemnation of the practice. They are 
all make-shifts. They are based upon the thought that 
the great object is to secure the speaker from danger and 
confusion ; in other words, they put him on the defen- 
sive, instead of the aggressive. Were the question to be 
stated, " How can a man best preserve the form of ex- 
temporaneous speech while shielding himself from the 
most dangerous incidents of that mode of address ?" it 



126 USING THE WRITTEN PLAN. 

might plausibly be replied, " By making a very full plan 
and concealing it at some point within the reach of his 
eyes, and using it whenever that course becomes easiest." 

But we have not sought to point out the mode of 
speech which w^ill best protect the speaker from risks 
incident to his work. For real effectiveness, compro- 
mises are usually hurtful, and this expedient forms no 
exception. 

To have a plan in sight tends powerfully to break up 
the speech into fragments and destroy its unity. A 
series of short addresses on related points, affords no sub- 
stitute for a concentrated discourse. The speaker who 
publicly uses his sketch, speaks on until he reaches a 
point at which he does not know what is to come next, 
and on the brink of that gulf, looks down at his notes, 
and, perhaps after a search, finds what he wants. Had 
the thought existed in his mind, it would have blended 
the close of the preceding sentences into harmony with 
it. Direct address to the people, wilich they so much 
value in a speaker, is interfered with in the same way, 
for his eye must rest for a portion of the time upon his 
notes. He will also be apt to mention the divisions of 
his speech as they occur, because the eye is resting upon 
them at the same time the tongue is engaged, and it is 
hard to keep the two members from working in harmony. 

If notes must be used the same advice applies that we 
have already offered to those who read in full. Be honest 



USING THE WRITTEN PLAN. 127 

about it ; do not try to hide the notes. Any attempt to 
prove to an audience that we are doing what we are not 
doing, has in it an element of deception, and is morally 
objectionable. The use of notes is not wrong, but to use 
them while pretending not to use them is wrong. 

Some speakers carry their notes m their pockets for 
the sake of being able to take them out in case they find 
their memory failing, and thus they guard against the 
misfortune which once befell the eloquent Abbe Bautain, 
who, on ascending the pulpit to preach before the French 
King and Court, found that he had forgotten subject, plan, 
and text. This method is honest and unobjectionable, 
for the notes of the plan are either not used by the 
speaker at all, or if he takes them from his pocket, the 
people will understand the action. 

The only remaining method, and that which we would 
urge upon every extempore speaker, is to commit the 
plan, as sketched, to memory. It is put in the best pos- 
sible shape for the expression of the subject by the labor 
which has been previously bestowed upon it, and now 
such review as will give the mind a perfect recollection of 
the whole subject in its orderly unfolding is just what 
is needed for final mastery. Previously much of the work 
of preparation was given to detached fragments. Now 
the subject as a whole is spread out. The time given to 
a thorough memorizing of the plan need not be great ; 
it will indeed be but small if the plan itself is so well 



128 USING THE WRITTEN PLAN. 

arranged that every preceding part suggests what fol- 
lows ; but it will be the most fruitful of all the time 
spent in preparation. It puts you in the best condition 
for speaking. The object is then fixed in the heart and 
will fire it to earnestness and zeal, while the subject is 
spread, like a map, before the mental vision. All the 
power you possess can then be brought to bear directly 
upon the people. Do not fear that in the hurry of dis- 
course you will forget some part of what is clear when 
you begin. If you are in good mental and physical 
condition, the act of speech will be exhilarating and stim- 
ulating, so that every fine line of preparation will come 
into clearness just at the right time, and many a relation 
unperceived before, many a forgotten fact, will spring up 
in complete and vivid perception. There is a wonderful 
luxury of feeling in such speech. Sailing with a swift 
wind, riding a race-horse, even the joy of victorious bat- 
tle — indeed, all enjoyments that arise from the highest 
powers called forth into successful exercise — are inferior 
to the thrill and intoxication of the highest form of suc- 
cessful extemporaneous speech. To think of using notes 
then would seem like a contemptible impertinence! 
Imagine Xavier or Luther with their notes spread out 
before them, looking up the different items from which 
to address the multitudes spell-bound before them ! The 
Presbyterian Deacon who once prayed in the presence of 
ids note-using Pastor, " O Lord ! teach Thy servants tc 



USING THE WRITTEN PLAN. 129 

speak from the heart to the heart, and not from a little 
piece of paper, as the manner of some is," was not so 
very far wrong ! 

It is advisable to commit the plan to memory a con- 
siderable time before speaking. It then takes more 
complete possession of the mind and there is less liability 
of forgetting some portion. This is less important when 
the subject is perfectly familiar, for then " out of the 
abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh," but those 
subjects which have been recently studied for the first 
time, are in a different position ; and some meditation 
upon that which has just been arranged in its best form 
will be very serviceable. Even if the salient points are 
firmly grasped, some of the minor parts may require 
further close consideration. No study is ever so profit- 
able as that which is bestowed after the plan is complete, 
for up to that time there is danger that some of the 
thoughts to which our attention is given may be ulti- 
mately rejected and others radically modified. But 
when the plan is finished each idea has settled into its 
place. If obscurity rests anywhere, it may be detected 
at once, and the strength of the mind be brought to bear 
for its banishment. Impressions derived from medita-' 
tion are then easily retained until the hour of speech, 
because associated with their proper place in the prepared 
outline. Such deep meditation on each division of the 
discourse can scarcely fail to make it original in the true 



1.30 USING THE WRITTEN PLAN. 

sense of the term, and weave all its parts together with 
strong and massive thoughts. 

After the plan has been memorized we can meditate 
upon it not only at the desk, but anywhere. As we 
walk about or lie in bed, or at any other time find our 
minds free from distractions, we can ponder the ideas 
that cluster around our subject until they grow perfectly 
familiar. Even when we are reading or thinking on 
other topics, brilliant thoughts will not unfrequently 
spring up, or those we possessed before take stronger 
and more definite outlines. All such gains can be held 
in memory without the use of the pen, because the plan 
furnishes a suitable place for them. 

The course here described we would urge strongly 
upon the consideration of the young speaker. If care- 
fully followed, its results will be invaluable. Arrange 
the plan from which you are to speak as clearly as may 
be in the form of a brief sketch ; turn it over and over 
again ; ponder each idea and the manner of bringing it 
out; study the connection between all the parts until 
the whole from beginning to end appears perfectly plain 
and simple. So frequently has this mode of preparation 
been tested that its effectiveness is no longer a matter of 
experiment. 

It is advantageous to grasp the whole subject, as 
early as possible, in a single idea — in the same manner 
itx which the future tree is compressed within the germ 



USING THE WRITTEN PLAN. 131 

from which it is to spring. Then this one thought wil\ 
suggest the entire discourse to the speaker, and at its 
conclusion will be left clear and positive in the hearer's 
mind. For some acute auditors this may be less neces- 
sary. They are able to outrun a loose speaker, arrange 
his scattered fragments, supply his omissions, and arrive 
at the idea which has not yet formed itself clearly in his 
own mind. Such persons often honestly commend 
orators who are incomprehensible to the majority of 
their hearers. But the opinions of such auditors are an 
unsafe guide, for they form a very small minority of 
any assembly. 

There is one further step which may sometimes pre- 
cede the moment of speech with profit — -the placing upon 
paper of a brief but connected sketch or statement of the 
whole discourse. If this is made in the ordinary writing 
there is danger that its slowness will make it more of a 
word-study than what it is intended to be — a test of 
ideas. A thorough mastery of shorthand, or the service 
of some one who has such mastery, will supply this 
defect. If the plan is well arranged there will be no 
pause in the most rapid composition, and if -the whole 
discourse can at one --effort be thrown into a dress- of 
words there may be full assurance that the same thing 
can be accomplished still more easily and effectively 
when the additional stimulus of an audience is supplied. 
There should be no attempt^ in the moment of speaking, 



132 USING THE WRITTEN PLAN. 

to recall the very words used in writing, but the com- 
mand of language will undoubtedly be greatly improved 
by having so recently used many of the terms that will 
be again required. Frequently there will be fine pas- 
sages in the speech which you have thus struck off at 
white heat that you may be unwilling to forget, but it is 
better to make no effort to remember them, for you are 
almost sure to rise still higher in the moment of 
public delivery. 

When this rapid writing is not available, a partial 
substitute for it maybe found in writing in the ordinary 
hand a brief sketch or compact model of the whole dis- 
course. You will be surprised to notice how short a 
compass will suffice for a discourse requiring an hour or 
more in delivery, without the omission of a single 
material thought. Such a sketch differs from the plan 
in clearly expressing all the ideas that underlie the 
coming speech, while the latter would be nearly unin- 
telligible to any but its author. The one is only a few 
marks thrown out in the field of thought by which an 
intended pathway is indicated ; the other is a very brief 
view of the thoughts themselves, without adornment or 
verbiage, Some speakers who might feel insecure in 
trusting the notes and hints of. the plan would feel per- :. 
fectly.$a£e in enlarging. -upon a statement, of their 
thoughts so brief that the whole sketch of the speech 
would not require more than three or four minutes to 



USING THE WRITTEN PLAN. 133 

read. But this whole plan of writing, either in full 
or in brief, is only an expedient, and need not be adopted 
by those who have full confidence in their trained and 
cultivated powers. 

After you have prepared your plan it is well to pre- 
serve it for future use, which may be done by copying 
it into a book kept for that purpose: or, what is more 
convenient in practice, folding the slip of paper on which 
it is written into an envelope of suitable size with the 
subject written on the back. These may be classified 
and preserved, even in very large numbers, so as to be 
easily consulted. From time to time, as your ability 
grows, they may be improved upon so as to remain the 
complete expression of your ability on every theme treated. 
On the back of the envelope may also be written refer- 
ences to any source of additional information on the 
same subject, and printed or written scraps, valuable as 
illustrations, or for additional information, may be 
slipped inside. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

The Fiest Moment of Speech. 

Having completed all your preparations, you now 
anxiously await the commencement of the intellectual 
battle. This period is often a severe trial. Men who 
are physically brave sometimes tremble in anticipation of 
speedily standing before an audience. The shame of 
failure then may appear worse than death itself. As the 
soldier feels more of cold and shrinking terror when 
listening for the peal of the first gun, than afterward, 
when the conflict deepens into blood around him, so the 
speaker usually suffers more in this moment of expect- 
ancy than in any that follows. You behold the danger 
in its full magnitude, without the inspiration that attends 
it. Yet whatever effort it may cost, you must remain 
calm and collected, for if not master of yourself, you 
cannot expect to rule others. Y our material must be 
kept w T ell in hand, ready to be used at the proper time, 
though it is not well to be continually conning over your 
preparation. That would destroy the freshness of your 
matter and bring you to the decisive test weary and 
jaded. You only need such an occasional glance as will 
assure you that all your material remains within reach. 
It is seldom possible by any means to banish all fear, 

134 



THE FIRST MOMENT OF SPEECH, 135 

and it is to the speaker's advantage that he cannot. His 
timidity arises from several causes, which differ widely 
in the effects they produce. A conscious want of prepa- 
ration, especially when this arises from any neglect or 
indolence, is one of the most distressing sources of fear. 
A species of remorse then mingles with the embarrass- 
ment natural to the moment. If the speaker has no 
other motive than to win reputation— to minister to his 
own vanity — he will feel terrified, as he realizes that 
shame instead of honor may be the result of his rash- 
ness. That man is fortunate who can say, " I only 
speak because I feel it to be duty which I dare not 
refuse — a work that I must perform whether well or 
ill." The lawyer who must defend his client, the min- 
ister who feels that the hour of service has arrived, the 
teacher in the presence of his class, are examples of those 
who speak under the same kind of compulsion that calls 
a field laborer out into the burning heat of a July noon 
whether he feels like it or not. But if you are about to 
speak because you have intruded into the work that 
properly belongs to another, you need to be very sure of 
your preparation, for in case of failure you will not have 
even your own sympathy. 

But the most formidable and common foe of the 
speaker's, in these preliminary moments, is a general 
dread that can neither be analyzed nor accounted for. 
Persons who have never felt its power sometimes make 



136 THE FIBST MOMENT OF SPEECH. 

light of it, but experience will change their views. The 
soldier who has never witnessed a battle, or felt the air 
throb with the explosion of cannon, or heard the awful 
cries of the wounded, is often a great braggart; while 
" the scarred veteran of a hundred fights " never speaks 
of the carnival of blood without shuddering, and would 
be the last, but for the call of duty, to brave the danger 
he knows so well. There may be a few speakers who 
do not feel such fear, but it is because they do not know 
what true speaking is. They have never known the full 
tide of inspiration which sometimes lifts the orator far 
above his conceptions, but which first struggles in his 
own bosom like the pent fires of a volcano. They only 
come forward to relieve themselves of the interminable 
stream of twaddle that wells spontaneously to their lips, 
and can well be spared the pangs preceding the birth of 
a powerful and living discourse. 

This kind of fear belongs to every kind of oratory, but 
is most intense on those great occasions, in presence of 
large audiences, when men's passions run high. In mere 
instructive address, where the ground has been repeatedly 
gone over and where the effort is mainly of an intellect- 
ual character, it is less noticeable. It resembles the awe 
felt on the eve of all great enterprises, and when exces- 
sive, as it is in some highly gifted minds, it constitutes an 
absolute bar to public speech. But in most cases it is a 
source of inspiration rather than of repression. 



THE FIRST MOMENT OF SPEECH. 137 

There is a strange sensation often experienced in the 
presence of an audience. It may proceed from the gaze 
of the many eyes that turn upon the speaker, especially 
if he permits himself to steadily return that gaze. Most 
speakers have been conscious of this in a nameless thrill, 
a real something, pervading the atmosphere, tangible, 
evanescent, indescribable. All writers have borne testi- 
mony to the power of a speaker's eye in impressing an 
audience. This influence which we are now considering 
is the reverse of that picture — the power their eyes may 
exert upon him, especially before he begins to speak: 
after the inward fires of oratory are fanned into flame 
the eyes of the audience lose all terror. By dwelling 
on the object for which we speak and endeavoring to 
realize its full importance, we will in a measure lose 
sight of our personal clanger, and be more likely to 
maintain a calm and tranquil frame of mind. 

No change should be made in the plan at the last 
moment, as that is very liable to produce confusion. 
This error is often committed. The mind has a natural 
tendency to go repeatedly over the same ground, revising 
and testing every point, and it may make changes the conse- 
quences of which cannot be in a moment foreseen. But 
the necessary preparation has been made and we should 
now await the result calmly and hopefully. Over-study 
is quite possible, and when accompanied by great solici- 
tude wearies our mind in advance and strips the subject 



138 THE FIRST MOMENT OF SPEECH. 

of all freshness. If the aye is fixed too long upon one 
object with a steadfast gaze, it loses the power to see at 
all. So the mind, if exerted steadily upon a single topic 
for a long period, fails in vigor and elasticity at the 
moment when those qualities are indispensable. That 
profound thinker and preacher, Frederick W. Robertson, 
experienced this difficulty and was accustomed to find 
relief by reading some inspiring paragraphs upon some 
totally different theme from that he intended to speak 
about. The energy and enthusiasm of our minds in 
the moment of speech must be raised to the highest 
pitch ; the delivery of a living discourse is not the dry 
enumeration of a list of particulars; but we must 
actually feel an immediate and burning interest in the 
topics with which we deal. This cannot be counterfeited. 

To clearly arrange all thoughts that belong to the 
subject, lay them aside when the work is done until the 
moment of speech, and then enter confidently upon them 
with only such a momentary glance as will assure us 
that all is right — this is the method to make our strength 
fully available. This confidence while in waiting seems 
to the beginner very difficult, but experience rapidly 
renders it easy. M. Bautain declares that he has been 
repeatedly so confident in his preparation as to fall 
asleep while waiting to be summoned to the pulpit ! 

Those who misimprove the last moments by too much 
thought and solicitude are not the only class of offen- 



THE FIRST MOMENT OF SPEECH. 139 

ders. Some persons, through mere indolence, suffer the 
fine lines of preparation which have been traced with so 
much care to fade into dimness. This error is not un-= 
frequently committed by those who speak a second or 
third time on the same subject. Because they have once 
succeeded they imagine that the same success is always 
at command. No mistake could be greater. It is not 
enough to have speech-material in a position from which 
it can be collected by a conscious and prolonged effort, 
3ut it must be in the foreground of the mind. There is 
no time at the moment of delivery for reviving half 
obliterated lines of memery. 

The writer once saw a notable case of failure from 
this cause. A preacher on a great occasion was much 
engrossed with other important duties until the hour 
appointed for his sermon had arrived. With perfect 
confidence he selected a sketch from which he had 
preached a short time before and with the general course 
of which he was no doubt familiar. But when he 
endeavored to produce his thoughts they were not ready. 
He became embarrassed, talked at random for a short 
time, and then had the candor to tell the audience that 
he could not finish, and to take his seat. Probably half 
in hour given to reviewing his plan would have made 
all his previous preparation fresh again, and have spared 
him the mortification of failure. 

In this last interval it is also well to care for the 



J 40 THE FIRST MOMENT OF SPEECH. 

strength and vigor of the body, as its condition greatly 
influences all mental operations. It is said that the 
pearl-diver, before venturing into the depths of the sea, 
always spends a few moments in deep breathing and 
other bodily preparations. In the excitement of speech, 
the whirl and hurricane of emotion, it is advisable to 
be well prepared for the high tension of nerve that is 
implied. Mental excitement exhausts and wears down 
the body faster than bodily labor. We must carefully 
husband our strength that we may be able to meet all 
demands upon it. 

Holyoake makes the following pertinent observation 
in reference to this point : 

" Perhaps the lowest quality of the art of oratory, 
but one on many occasions of ike first importance, is a 
certain robust and radiant physical health ; great volumes 
of animal heat. In the cold thinness of a morning 
audience mere energy and mellowness is inestimable; 
wisdom and learning would be harsh and unwelcome 
compared with a substantial man, who is quite a house- 
warming," 

Fatiguing and excessive exercise should be very care- 
fully avoided. Holyoake illustrates this from his own 
experience. He says r 

" One Saturday I walked from Sheffield to Hudders- 
field to deliver on Sunday two anniversary lectures. It 
was my first appearance there, and I was ambitious to 



THE FIEST MOMENT OF SPEECH. 141 

icquit myself well. But in the morning I was utterly 

mable to do more than talk half inaudibly and quite 

incoherently. In the evening I was tolerable, but my 

roice was weak. My annoyance was excessive. I was 

la paradox to myself. My power seemed to come and go 

Iby some eccentric law of its own. I did not find out 

(until years after that the utter exhaustion of my strength 

had exhausted the powers of speech and thought, and 

that entire repose, instead of entire fatigue, should have 

been the preparation for public speaking." 

The last statement is somewhat too strong, for abso- 
lute rest is not generally advisable. It would leave the 
speaker, when he began to speak, with languid mind and 
slowly beating pulse — a state which it would require 
some minutes for him to overcome. A short, but brisk 
walk, when the health is good, will invigorate and refresh 
all his faculties, and often prevent a listless introduction 
by giving him the vigor to grasp the subject at once and 
launch right into the heart of it. Should any person 
doubt the power of exercise to produce this effect, let 
him, when perplexed with difficult questions in his study, 
start out over fields and hills, and review the matter in 
the open air. It is a good thing to carry the breath of 
the fields into the opening of our addresses. 

But when the speaker cannot take this form of exer- 
cise in the moments just preceding speech, he may easily 
find a substitute for it. If alone, he can pace back and 



142 THE FIRST MOMENT OF SPEECH. 

forth and swing his arms until the circulation becomes 
brisk and pours a stream of arterial blood to the brain. 

Another simple exercise can be practiced anywhere, 
and will be of great benefit. Many persons injure 
themselves by speaking too much from the throat. This 
is caused by improper, short, and shallow breathing. 
To breathe properly is beneficial at any time, and does 
much to prevent or remedy throat and long disease. 
But in the beginning of a speech it is doubly important: 
when once under way, there will be no time to think of 
either voice or breath : the only safe plan, then, is to have 
the right mode made habitual and instinctive. This 
will be greatly promoted if just before beginning we 
breathe deeply for a few minutes, inflating the lungs to 
their extremities and sending the warm blood to the very 
tips of the fingers. 

Having now done all we can in advance, nothing re- 
mains but to rise and speak. Preparation and precau- 
tion are passed. Actual work — the most joyous, thrill- 
ing, and spiritual of all human tasks — is now to be en- 
tered upon. 



CHAPTER XVII. 
The Introduction. 

The time for the speech having arrived, we will now 
consider its separate parts. No division is better for our 
purpose than that employed in a previous part of this 
work — a three-fold division into introduction, discussion, 
and conclusion. 

A good introduction is exceedingly valuable, and is to 
be sought for with great solicitude, if it does not spon- 
taneously present itself. Some kind of an introduction 
is inevitable, for there will always be a first moment 
when silence is broken, and our thoughts introduced. 
The subsiding murmur of the audience tells the speaker 
that the time of his trial has come. If he is very sensi- 
tive, or if he has seldom, if ever, spoken before, his 
pulse beats fast, his face flushes, and an indescribable 
feeling of faintness and fear thrills every nerve. He 
may wish himself anywhere else, but there is now no 
help for him. He must arise, and for the time stand as 
the mark for all eyes and the subject of all thoughts. 

There is a vast difference between reciting and extem- 
porizing in these opening moments, and the advantage 
seems to be altogether on the side of recitation. Every 
word is in its proper plaoe and the speaker may be per- 

14a 



144 THE INTRODUCTION. 

fectly calm and self-collected. He is sure that his 
memory will not fail him in the opening, and encouraged 
by that assurance, will usually throw his whole power 
into his first sentences, causing his voice to ring clear 
and loud over the house. 

The extemporizer is in a far more difficult position. 
He is sure of nothing. The weight of the whole speech 
rests heavily upon his mind. He is glancing ahead, 
striving to forecast the coming sentences, as well as 
carrying forward those gliding over the tongue, and, dis- 
tracted by this double labor, his first expressions may be 
feeble and ungraceful. Yet this modesty and timidity is 
no real loss : it goes far to conciliate an audience and 
secure their good-will. We can scarcely fail to dis- 
tinguish memorized from extemporized discourses by 
the introduction alone. 

To avoid the pain and hesitancy of an unelaborated 
beginning, some speakers write and memorize the open- 
ing passage. This may accomplish the immediate object, 
but it is apt to be at the expense of all the remainder of 
the discourse. The mind cannot pass easily from reciting 
to spontaneous origination ; and the voice, being too freely 
used at first, loses its power. The hearers, having list- 
ened to highly polished language, are less disposed to 
relish the plain words that follow, and the whole speech, 
which, like the Alpine condor, may have pitched from 
the loftiest summits, falls fast and far, until the lowest 



THE INTRODUCTION. 145 

level is reached. A written introduction may be modest 
and unpretending, but unless it very closely imitates 
unstudied speech, painful contrasts and disappointments 
are inevitable. 

One mode of avoiding these difficulties is to make no 
formal introduction, but to plunge at once into the heart of 
the subject. Sometimes, when the minds of speaker and 
hearer are already absorbed by the same general topic, 
as in the midst of a heated political canvass, this mode 
is very good. Under such circumstances, an interest 
may soon be aroused which removes all embarrassment. 
But usually the speaker's mind is full of a subject which 
is unfamiliar and indifferent to his hearers. It then 
behooves him to find some mode of gaining their atten- 
tion and sympathy before he takes the risk of arousing 
a prejudice against his subject which he might afterward 
strive in vain to overcome. If something is found which 
can be made to bear some relation to his subject, without 
too violent straining, and which already excites interest 
in their minds, it will be far better to begin wdth that, 
and lead them to the proper theme when their attention 
has been thoroughly aroused. 

The introduction should not be left to the chance of 
the moment. It may often, with great propriety, be 
prepared after all other parts of the speech are planned. 
But with even more care than is given to any other por* 
tion should the introduction be prearranged* When 



146 THE INTRODUCTION. 

once the wings of eloquence are fully spread we may soai 
above all obstructions ; but in starting it is well to be 
assured that the ground is clear about us. 

It is only the substance and not the words of the in- 
troduction that should be prepared. A single sentence 
may be mentally forecast, but much beyond would be 
harmful; and even this sentence should be simple 
and easily understood. Anything that needs explana- 
tion is very much out of place. Neither should the 
introduction be so striking as to be the part of the dis- 
course longest remembered. Rather than permit the 
attention to be distracted in that manner, it would be 
better to have no introduction. 

A speaker gains much if he can at the outset arrest 
the attention and win the sympathy of his hearers and 
then carry these over to his proper subject. But it may 
be assumed as certain, that no kind of an apology will 
accomplish this object — unless, indeed, the speaker is 
such a favorite that everything in regard to his health 
or position is an object of deep solicitude to his audience. 
A popular speakei who happens to be late and apologizes 
for it by explaining that he had just escaped from a terrible 
railroad accident would make a good introduction. A 
loved pastor, in his first sermon after serious illness, 
might properly begin by talking of his amendment and 
his joy at addressing his flock again. But these are rare 
exceptions. The speaker about to make any kind of an 



THE INTRODUCTION. 147 

apology or personal reference as an introduction, may 
well heed Punch's advice to persons about to be married: 
" Don't." 

In many instances it is not easy to get the mere atten- 
tion of an audience. They come together from many 
different employments with thoughts engaged upon 
various topics, and it is difficult to remove distracting 
influences and fix all minds upon one subject. Some- 
times a startling proposition, in the nature of a challenge, 
will secure the object. Earnestness in the speaker goes 
far toward it. But above everything else, sameness and 
monotony must be carefully avoided. When the same 
audience is frequently addressed, variety becomes essen- 
tial. The writer knew of a minister who made it a 
rule to consider the nature, reason, and manner of bis 
subjects, in answer to the supposed questions : " What 
is it? Why is it? How is it?" The eloquence of 
Paul could not often have redeemed the faults of such 
an arrangement. 

Some inattention may be expected and patiently borne 
with at first. Part of the opening words may be lost— 
an additional reason for not making them of capital im- 
portance to the address. It is useless to try by loud 
tones and violent manner to dispel indifference. If the 
speaker's words have real weight, and if his manner indi- 
cates confidence, one by one the audience will listen, until 
that electric thrill of sympathy, impossible to describe, 



148 THE INTRODUCTION. 

but which is as evident to the practiced orator as an 
accord in music, tells him that every ear is open to his 
words, and that his thoughts are occupying every mind. 
Then the orator's power is fully developed, and if him- 
self and his theme are equal to the occasion it is delight- 
ful to use that power. This silent, pulsating interest is 
more to be desired than vehement applause, for it cannot 
be counterfeited, and it indicates that the heart of the 
assembly has been reached and melted by the fire of 
eloquence, and is now ready to be molded into any 
desired form. 

There are two or three general subjects available for 
introduction which every speaker would do well to study 
carefully, and which will do much to furnish him with 
the means of properly approaching his theme. We will 
mention the most useful of these, premising that no one 
mode should be depended upon to the exclusion of others. 

A good mode of introduction consists in a compliment 
to an audience. When a truthful and manly compliment 
can be given it is a most pleasant and agreeable step 
toward the good-will of those we address : but if used on 
all occasions indiscriminately, it is meaningless ; if trans- 
parently false, it is repulsive and disgusting ; but when 
true, there is no reason why it should rjot be employed. 

There are several good introductions of the compli- 
mentary character in the 24th and 26th chapters of Acts. 
When the orator, Tertullus, accused Paul, he began by 



THE INTRODUCTION. ] 49 

skillful, but, from the standpoint of his clients, very in- 
sincere flattery : 

" Seeing that by thee we enjoy great quietness, and 
that very worthy deeds are done unto this nation by 
thy providence, we accept it always, and in all places, 
most noble Felix, with all thankfulness." 

No fault can be found with the form of this introduc- 
tion, but it was untrue, for the men in whose names it 
was made were the very reverse of thankful to the 
.Roman Governor. 

Paul was far too skillful to lose the advantage of 
beginning his address with a compliment, and too honest 
to give a false one. There was one fact over which he 
could rejoice. Felix had been long enough in office to 
know the ways of his enemies ; so Paul uses that as an 
effective and truthful compliment, while professing his 
own confidence in his cause. 

" Forasmuch as I know that thou hast been for 
many years a Judge unto this nation, I do the more 
cheerfully answer for myself, because that thou mayest 
understand." 

In the same exquisite combination of truthfulness and 
compliment to a bad man, Paul begins his address when 
before King Agrippa : 

" I think myself happy, King Agrippa, because I 
shall answer for myself this day before thee, touching all 
the things whereof I am accused of the Jews ; especially 



150 THE INTRODUCTION. 

because I know thee to be expert in all customs and 
questions which are among the Jews ; wherefore, I be- 
seech thee to hear me patiently." 

It should always be remembered, however, that com- 
pliments, even in the estimation of those complimented, 
are only grateful in proportion to their judicious char- 
acter. Their hollowness, if insincere, is easily detected 
and thoroughly despised. 

Effective introductions can also be constructed from 
those topics of the day which may be supposed to fill all 
minds. A few words on such subjects, falling in with 
the general current of thought, may easily lead up to the 
orator's special topic. The newspapers may thus furnish 
us, especially while some striking event is yet recent, 
with the means of arresting the attention of newspaper 
readers at our first words. 

Another good mode of introduction is that of locality. 
The people of any town may be presumed familiar with 
the objects or events of interest for which their own 
place is celebrated. A ludicrous instance of this is nar- 
rated of the eloquent Daniel Webster. He had visited 
Niagara Falls and was to make an oration at Buffalo the 
same day, but, unfortunately, he sat too long over the 
wine after dinner. "When he arose to speak, the ora- 
torical instinct struggled with difficulties, as he declared, 
" Gentlemen, I have been to look upon your mag — 
*iag — magnificent cataract, one hundred — and forty — 



THE INTRODUCTION. 151 

seven — feet high ! Gentlemen, Greece and Rome in 
their palmiest days never had a cataract one hundred — 
and forty — seven — feet high I" 

Another mode of introduction which may be very use- 
ful under proper restrictions is that of citing some rele- 
vant remark made by an author whose name carries great 
weight, or so pointed in itself as to at once arrest attention. 
A great picture, some feature of a landscape, a great his- 
torical event, may be cited in the same way. This 
method of citation is capable of very wide application. 
If the sentiment or impression made by the citation is 
directly opposite to that which the speaker wishes to pro- 
duce this will increase rather than diminish interest, as 
the enjoyment of contrast and controversy is very keen; 
but the speaker should feel confident of his ability to 
overcome the influence of the citation when thus hostile. 
A favorite introduction to abolition lectures in a former 
generation was the quotation of some strong and shocking 
declaration of the rightfulness or beneficence of slavery. 

The last mode of introduction we will notice is very 
similar in character and may be termed that of percep- 
tion. Something has been seen, heard, or imagined by 
the speaker, which, because of its simple, tangible char- 
acter, is easily grasped, and yet leads by some subtle an- 
alogy to his topic. He has seen a ragged, desolate boy 
on the street; he describes that poor fellow to his audience; 
and then finds them far more ready to listen to a plea 



1.52 THE INTRODUCTION. 

for orphan asylums, for education, for better city gov- 
ernment, for anything which can have any bearing upon 
the welfare of the boy. 

Here, then, are five principles upon which appropriate 
introductions may be constructed. Many others might 
be named, but these cover a wide range and may be very 
useful. They are : 

1. Compliments. 

2. Current Events. 

3. Local Allusion. 

4. Citations. 

5. Things seen, heard, or imagined. 

A great calamity may come to a speaker from a bad 
introduction. Speakers who are great in everything else 
often fail at this point. Some make their introductions 
too complicated, and thus defeat their own end, as surely 
as the engineer who gives his railroad such steep grades 
that no train can pass over it. Others deliver a string 
of mere platitudes and weary their audience from the 
beginning. 

When from these or other causes our address is mis- 
begun, the consequences may be serious. The thought 
settles upon the speaker with icy weight that he is fail- 
ing. This conviction paralyzes all his faculties. He 
talks on, but grows more and more embarrassed. Inco- 
herent sentences are stammered out which require painful 
explanation to prevent them from degenerating into 



THE INTRODUCTION. 153 

perfect nonsense. The outline of his plan dissolves into 
mist. The points he. intended to make which seemed 
strong and important now look trivial. With little hope 
ahead he blunders on. The room grows dark before 
hini, and in the excess of his misery he longs for the 
time when he can close without absolute disgrace. Bui; 
alas ! the end seems far off, and he searches in vain for 
some avenue of escape. There is none. His throat 
becomes dry and parched, and command of voice is lost. 
The audience grow restive, for they are tortured as well 
as the speaker, and if he were malicious and had time to 
think about it, he might find some alleviation in that. 
No one can help him. At length, in sheer desperation, 
he does what he ought to have done long before — simply 
stops and sits down— perhaps hurling some swelling 
morsel of commonplace, as a parting volley, at the au- 
dience — bathed in sweat, and feeling that he is disgraced 
forever! If he is very weak or foolish, he resolves 
never to speak again without having every word written 
out before him ; if wiser, he only resolves, not only to 
understand his speech, but how to begin it, 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

Progress of the Speech. 

The passage from the introduction to the discussion 
should be made smoothly and gradually. To accom- 
plish this, and to strike the subject at just the right 
angle, continuing all the interest previously excited, is a 
most important achievement. A definite object is a great 
assistance in this part of the work. If the object is 
clearly in view, we go right up to it with no wasted 
words, and the people follow our guidance because they 
see that we are not proceeding at random. But with no 
strong purpose we are apt to steer about our subject 
without ever being quite ready to enter upon it. The 
more brilliant the introduction the more difficult this 
transition will be. But all these difficulties may be 
overcome with the aid of a well-constructed plan, and 
then all the triumphs of oratory are before us. 

There is great pleasure in speaking well. An assembly 
hanging on the words and thinking the thoughts of a 
single man, gives to him the most subtle kind of flattery. 
But he must not inhale its fragrance heedlessly, or his 
fall will be speedy and disastrous. The triumphs of 
oratory are very fascinating — the ability to sway our 
fellows at pleasure, to bind them willing captives with 

154 



PROGRESS OF THE SPEECH. 155 

the strong chain of our thought — produces a delirious 
and intoxicating sense of power. But in the best of 
instances such achievements are very transient, and unless 
taken advantage of at the moment to work our cherished 
purposes, the opportunity is lost. Even during a single 
address it is hard to maintain the influence of a happy 
moment. Speakers sometimes utter a great and noble 
thought and the nameless thrill of eloquence is felt, but 
some irrelevant phrase or common-place sentiment dis- 
solves the charm. To avoid this, the whole discourse 
must be animated with some controlling purpose, and in 
its general character, tend upward, until its close. 

The law of climax ought to be carefully considered by 
the speaker. There may be more than one culmination of 
interest in an address, separated by an interval less absorb- 
ing and powerful, but this decline should only be allowed 
in order to prepare a second or third climax grander than 
all before. To violate this rule and have a speech 
" flatten out " toward its close, is a fearful error. Better 
reduce the length of the whole by one-half or three- 
fourths, and maintain interest and attention to the end, 

A few miscellaneous considerations in regard to the 
style and manner of the speech may be inserted here as 
well as anywhere. 

Diffuseness is often supposed to be a necessary quality 
of extemporaneous speech. Many speakers do fall into 
it, but they need not. They are diffuse because they 



156 PROGRESS OF THE SPEECH. 

are unwilling cr unable to say exactly what they mean^ 
but come near it, and continue their efforts until they 
are satisfied. They furnish no clear view of any idea, 
but only a kind of twilight illumination. This seri- 
ous fault may be overcome in spontaneous speech as 
readily as in writing. He who thinks clearly and 
forcibly will talk in the same manner. Exquisite finish 
and elaborate verbal arrangement are not to be looked 
for in off-hand speech, but each idea may be expressed 
with great force, vigor, and accuracy of shading. 

This ability to say precisely what we mean in few 
words, and at the first effort, constitutes one of the great 
beauties of a spoken style. The hearer is filled with 
grateful surprise when some new and living idea is sud- 
denly placed before him clothed in a single word or 
sentence. A diffuse speaker gives so many premonitions 
of his thought that the audience have guessed it, and 
may even come to believe that they have always known 
it, before he has made his formal presentment. Of 
course, they are wearied, and never give him credit for 
an original conception. 

If troubled with this fault, frequently forecast what 
to say; drive it into the smallest number of vivid, 
expressive words ; then, without memorizing the lan- 
guage, reproduce the same thought briefly in the hurry 
of speech. If not successful in making it as brief as 
before, repeat the effort. This exercise will, in time, 



PROGRESS OF THE SPEECH. 15? 

give the ability to condense. But to exercise it the temp- 
tation to fine language must be overcome. No sentence 
[should be introduced for mere glitter or sparkle: a 
single unnecessary word may require others to justify or 
explain it, and thus may ruin a whole discourse. The 
danger of showy language in speech is far greater than 
in writing, for if the writer be drawn too far away from 
his subject he can strike out the offending sentences and 
begin again, while the speaker has but one trial. If 
beauty lies in his way, well ; but if not, he should never 
abandon his course to seek it. 

We have seen many directions for "expanding 
thought/' and have heard young speakers admire the 
ease and grace of such expansion. But thoughts are 
not like medicines which require dilution to be more 
palatable. It is better to give the essence of an idea 
and go on to something else. There should be clear and 
ample expression ; condensation carried to the point of 
obscurity would be a fault ; but nothing more than clear- 
ness is needed. If thoughts are few it is better to delve 
for others rather than to attenuate and stretch what we 
have. 

A popular error exists as to the kind of language best 
adapted to the purposes of oratory. High-sounding 
epithets and Latinised words are considered the fitting 
medium of speech. These may overawe ignorant 
iiearers, but can never strike the chords of living sym- 



158 PROGRESS OF THE SPEECH. 

pathy which bind all hearts together. If we use term» 
hard to be understood the effort put forth by hearers to 
master their meaning is just so much subtracted from the 
force of the address. The homely Saxon words that 
dwell on the lips of the people will unload their wealth 
of meaning in the heart as soon as the sound strikes the 
ear. Uncommon words build a barrier around thought ; 
familiar ones are like a railroad over which it glides 
swiftly to its destination. 

All debased and slang words should be rejected, unless 
the speech is to partake of the nature of burlesque: 
we do not advocate "the familiarity that breeds con- 
tempt:" this is also a hurtful extreme. The two great 
requisites in the use of words are that they should 
exactly express our ideas, and that they should be 
familiar: the charms of melody and association are 
not to be despised, but they are secondary. 

Every speech should have its strong points, upon 
which especial reliance is placed. A skillful general 
has his choice battalions reserved to pierce the enemy's 
line at the decisive moment, and win the battle. In both 
the physical and the mental contest, it is important to 
place these reserves aright that all their weight may be 
felt. -" . - - - - ■ - 

A crisis occurs- in nearly all living addresses-r-ra 
moment in which a strong argument or a fervid appeal 
will accomplish our purpose— just as a vigorous charge, 



PROGRESS OF THE SPEECH. 15& 

or the arrival of reinforcements, will turn the doubtful 
scale of battle. The speaker, from the opening of his 
speech, should have his object clearly in view and drive 
steadily toward it, and when within reach, put forth his 
whole power in a mighty effort, achieving the result for 
which the whole speech was devised. If the right 
opportunity is neglected it seldom returns, and an hour's 
talk may fail to accomplish as much as one good burning 
sentence thrown in at the right time. Much talk after 
the real purpose of an address is accomplished also is 
useless and even perilous. 

It has all along been taken for granted that the 
speaker has something worthy to say. Without this a 
serious address deserves no success, although under some 
circumstances nothing but sound to tickle the ears is 
desired. Such speeches are well enough in their way, 
but they rank with the performances on the piano by 
which a young lady entertains her uncritical visitors. 
They cannot be called speeches in any real sense. The fact 
that a speaker has a solid and worthy foundation of 
knowledge and an adequate purpose gives him confidence. 
He knows that if his words are not instinct with music, 
and if the pictures of his fancy are not painted in the 
brightest colors, he has yet-a just claim upon the atten* 
tion of his hearers. 

It is not necessary that the orator's thoughts should 
be exceedingly profound; the most- vital truths- lie near 



160 PROGRESS OF THE SPEECH. 

the surface, within reach of all. But most men do not 
dwell long enough upon one subject to master its obvious 
features, and when some one does fully gather up and 
fairly present what belongs to a worthy theme it is like 
a new revelation. A good illustration of this is found 
in the sublimity Dean Stanley imparts to the story of 
the Exodus of Israel. Few new facts are presented, but 
these are so arranged and vivified by a thoughtful mind 
that the subject glows into new meaning. The extem- 
poraneous speaker may have abundant time for such 
study of every topic within his range of addresses, and if 
he uses it aright, he can soon wield a charm far beyond 
any jingling combination of words. 

When an orator stands before an audience, shall he 
expect to overwhelm them by his eloquence? Such 
a result is possible but not probable; and it can never be 
safely calculated upon. If persons attempt to be greatly 
eloquent on all occasions, they are apt to end by becom- 
ing ridiculous. Good sense and solid usefulness are bet- 
ter objects of endeavor. 

Any man who studies a subject until he knows more 
about it than his neighbors can interest them in a fire- 
side explanation, if they care for the subject at all: he 
tells his facts in a plain style and is understood. Many 
persons will listen delighted to a man's conversation 
until midnight, but will fall asleep in ten minutes if he 
&ries to make a speech td them* In the first case he 



PRlK^RESS OF THE SPEECH. 161 

talks, and is simple and unaffected; in the other he speaks 
and feels that he must use a style stiffened up for the 
occasion. 

When Henry Clay was asked how he became so elo- 
quent, he said that he could tell nothing about it ; all he 
knew was that when he commenced an address he had 
only the desire to speak what he had prepared (not 
memorized), and adhered to this line of preparation 
until he was enwrapped in the subject, and carried away, 
he knew not how. This was a good course, for if the 
extraordinary inspiration did not come, a good and sen- 
sible speech was secured at any rate. 

Some of these considerations may be of service if 
weighed in advance, but when the speaker once ascends 
the platform he must rely on his own tact for the manage- 
ment of all details. Closely observing the condition 
of the audience, and taking advantage of every favor- 
ing element, he moves steadily toward his object. With 
an unobstructed road before him, which he has traveled 
in thought until it is familiar, he will advance with 
ease and certainty. As he looks upon interested faces, 
new ideas arise, and if fitting, are woven into har- 
mony w T ith previous preparations, often with thrilling 
effect. Each emotion enkindled by sympathy embodies 
itself in w^ords that move the heart as prepared language 
oould not do, and each moment his own conviction sinks 
deeper into the hearts of his hearers. 



162 PKOGKESS OF THE SPEECH. 

There are three principal ways of concluding a speech, 
One of the most graceful is to condense a clear view oi 
the whole argument and tendency of the address into a 
few words, and leave the summing up thus made to pro- 
duce its own effect. Discourses aiming principally to 
produce conviction may very well be concluded in this 
manner. To throw the whole sweep of an argument, 
every point of which has been previously elaborated, 
into a few telling sentences will contribute powerfully to 
make the impression permanent. 

Another and very common mode is to close with an 
application or with practical remarks. When the address 
is a sermon, this form of closing is frequently termed an 
exhortation, and the whole speech is made to bear upon 
the duty of the moment. The conclusion should be 
closely connected with the remainder of the address: it 
it be so general in character as to fit any speech it will be 
of little service to any. 

A conclusion should always be short and contain no new 
matter. Few things are more disastrous than the practice 
of drawing toward an end and then launching out 
into a new discussion. All good things that have been 
said, all previous favorable impressions, are obliterated 
by this capital fault. We should be careful to finish the 
discussion of our theme before we indicate that the con- 
clusion has been reached. And if, at the moment of 
finishing, we happen to think of anything, however 



PROGRESS OF THE SPEECH. 163 

vital/ which has been omitted, it had better be left to 
another time and place altogether. 

A third method of closing is to simply break off when 
the last item is finished. The full development of the dis- 
course is thus made its ending, care being taken that the 
last item discussed shall be of weight and dignity. This 
is by no means the easiest form of conclusion, but rightly 
managed it is one of the most effective. 



CHAPTER XIX. 
After the Speech. 

When a fervent and successful discourse has been con- 
cluded there comes a feeling of inexpressible relief. The 
burden of an important speech rests with accumulating 
force upon the mind from the time the subject is chosen 
until it becomes well-nigh intolerable. When speech 
actually begins every power is called into play and ex- 
erted to its utmost capacity. The excitement of the 
conflict hurries the speaker on, and although he may not 
at the time realize the gigantic exertions put forth, yet 
when he pauses at length, perhaps exhausted, but with 
the victory won, the sense of rest, relief, and security, is 
exceedingly delightful. 

After such an effort both mind and body do need rest. 

There are speakers who profess to feel no fatigue after 

an hour's labor, but these are seldom in the front rank 

of orators. If the soul has been aroused and all the 

man's faculties bent to the accomplishment of a great 

purpose, relaxation is often followed by a sense of utter 

prostration. Nothing better for the moment can be 

advised than to abandon one's self to the luxury of utter 

repose. Social intercourse and all distractions should as 

far as possible be avoided. If circumstances permit, a 

164 



AFTER THE SPEECH. 165 

short sleep, if but for a few minutes, will afford great 
relief; and in most cases sleep will come if wisely 
courted, 

After resting, it is well to ponder closely the lessons 
derived from each new experience in speaking. To in- 
dulge in exultation over success or to lament over fail- 
ure is not profitable. The speaker is not a perfect judge 
of either. He has probably done the best he could at 
the time, and there the case should rest, except so far as 
he sees the need or the means of future improvement. 

But judgment of success or failure cannot easily be 
avoided. If the speaker's standard is low, he may pass 
beyond it without accomplishing anything worthy of 
high praise: or if he is despondent in nature he may 
have expected little and may now feel correspondingly 
elated because he has exceeded his very moderate expecta- 
tions. But it is a curious fact that speakers are often 
least pleased with their best speeches. In the mightiest 
efforts of the mind the standard is placed very high — 
perhaps beyond the possibility of attainment — and the 
speaker works with his eyes fixed upon that summit, 
and probably, after all his exertions, sees it shining still 
far above him. His ideas are but half expressed; he 
is mortified that there should be such a difference 
between conception and realization. But his hearers 
have been led over untrodden fields of thought, and 
knowing nothing of the grander heights still above the 



166 AFTER THE SPEECH. 

orator's head, they are naturally filled with enthusiasm, 
and cannot enter into the feelings of the speaker if he is 
foolish enough to tell them of his disappointment. 

This is the reason that we are least able to judge of 
the success of speeches that have been long meditated 
and thoroughly prepared. The subject expands as we 
study, its outlines becoming grander and vaster until they 
pass beyond our power of adequate representation. Each 
separate thought in the whole discussion that is fully 
mastered becomes familiar, and is not, therefore, valued 
at its true worth. Sometimes, when we begin to speak 
with little thought, intending to give only easy and 
common views of the subject, everything appears fresh 
before us, and if some striking ideas arise, their novelty 
gives them three-fold value, and we imagine that we 
have made a great speech. All this constitutes no argu- 
ment against diligent preparation, but it should stimu- 
late us to bring up our powers of expression more nearly 
to the level of our conceptions. 

There should never be extreme discouragement over 
an apparent failure. Some good end may be reached 
even by a very poor speech. One evening the writer 
preached when weary and almost unprepared. From 
first to last the effort was painful, and to prevent abso- 
lute failure the intended plan had to be abandoned, and 
detached thoughts from any source thrown in. Yet 
that discourse, which was scarcely worthy of the name. 



AFTEK THE SPEECH. 

elicited warmer approval and did more apparent good 
than any one preached for several previous months. 
One or two fortunate illustrations redeemed every defect, 
so far as the audience (but not the speaker) was con- 
cerned. 

Whatever judgment we may entertain of our own 
performances, it is not usually wise to tell our hearers, 
or to ask their opinions. Criticisms spontaneously 
offered need not be repulsed, but all seeking for commen- 
dation is childish or disgusting. It is sweet to hear 
our efforts praised, and most of men can bear an amount 
of flattery addressed to themselves which would be in- 
sufferable if offered to others ; but this disposition, if 
much indulged, becomes ungovernable and exposes us to 
well-deserved ridicule. It is pitiable to see a man who 
has been uttering wise and eloquent words afterward 
stooping to beg crusts of indiscriminating flattery from 
his hearers. 

Whenever there is a probabiUty that any discourse 
will be repeated, it is well to review it soon after de- 
livery, while its impression is still fresh upon the mind, 
and if any defect appears, amend it in the plan, and add 
to the same plan all the valuable ideas that have been 
suggested during the speech or afterward. In this 
manner we keep each discourse up to the high water- 
mark of our ability. 

Some orators are accustomed to write their speeches 



168 AFTER THE SPEECH. 

out in full after delivery. When the theme is important 
and time permits, this is a good exercise, but in many — 
perhaps the majority of eases — the labor would outweigh 
the profit. 

No such objection applies to reviewing and correcting 
a verbatim report of our speeches. To many speakers 
such a review of the exact words they have uttered 
would be a striking and not altogether pleasing revela- 
tion. Pet phrases, which might otherwise be unnoticed 
for years ; faults of expression, and especially the pro- 
fuseness of words, in which extemporaneous speakers are 
tempted to indulge; — would all be forced upon our notice. 
We would be surprised to learn that we could often 
write the discourse in one-fourth the words employed in 
delivery. To form the habit of thus condensing our 
speeches after delivery would have a powerful tend- 
ency toward compacting thought in speech itself. The 
only hindrance in applying this capital means of im- 
provement consists in the difficulty of obtaining such 
shorthand reports. Where this cannot be overcome a 
part of the advantage may be gained by taking the plan 
and from it writing out the same kind of a compact pre- 
sentation of the thoughts as uttered. This differs from 
writing in full by making no effort to record exact 
words or forms of expression, but only to recall from 
memory and from the sketch the exact thoughts that 
were expressed in the language of the moment. Even 



AFTER THE SPEECH. 169 

3f the same kind of brief sketch has been made previous 
to the act of speech, this does not take the place of what 
we now recommend ; for the former outline may have 
been greatly modified by the experience of delivery. 

In whatever form the best result of the discourse is 
recorded, great care should be taken in its preservation. 
The plan, sketch, or fully written discourse may be 
slipped into an envelope (which may also contain all 
illustrative scraps, notes, or references to books that bear 
upon the discourse) and on the back may be written the 
title, time, and character of delivery, with any other facts 
of importance. If the young speaker will faithfully 
follow up such a method of recording the results of his 
oratorical experience, he will find it one of the best forms 
of discipline, and the record itself— carefully indexed, 
frequently reviewed, and kept within reasonable bulk — 
will in time possess a value greater than gold. 



FIKXSe 



Choice Humor 

By Charles C. Shoemaker 

For Reading and Recitation 

To prepare a bock of humor that shall be free from anything 
Chat is coarse or vulgar on the one hand, and avoid what is flat and 
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Paper binding, 30 cents • doth, 60 cents. 

Choice DiaJect 

By Charles C* Shoemaker 
For Reading and Recitation 

This book will be found to contain a rare and finable collec* 
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Paper binding, 30 cents ; cloth, 50 cents. 

Choice Dialogues 

By Mr.A J, W. Shoem&Jcer 

For School and Social Entertainment 

Entirely new and original. The topics have been arranged on a 
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THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 



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Comic Dialogues 

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, Paper binding, 30 cents ; cloth, 50 cents. 

Humorous Dialogues and Dramas 

By Charles* C. Shoemaker 

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Paper binding, 30 cents ; cloth, 50 cents. 

Classic Dialogues and Dramas 

By Mry, J. W. Shoemaker 

This unique work will prove not only interesting and profitable 
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THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 
m&, Affch Street. Philadetokife 



Entertainment Boohs tot WouMg £m&& 

Sterling Dialogues 

By William M. Clark 

The dialogues comprising this volume have been ehosen from i 
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the staging required is simple and easily obtained* 

Paper binding, 30 cents ; cloth, 50 cents. 

Model Dialogues 

By William M. Clark 

The dialogues comprising this collection have been contributed 
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They represent every variety of sentiment and emotion, from the 
extremely humorous to the pathetic. Every dialogue is full of life 
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Paper binding, 30 cents ; cloth, 60 cents* 

Standard Dialogues 

By Rev. Alexander Cl&jrk, A. M. 

The author's name is a guaranty of the excellence of this bock* 
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Paper binding, 30 cents ; cloth, 60 Cents. 

THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 
$3S$ Arch Street. PhUadelohfe 



Entertainment Books for Voting People 

Schoolday Dialogues 

By Rev. Alexander Clark, A. M. 

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Paper binding, 30 cents ; cloth, 50 cents. 

Popular Dialogues 

By Phinezws Garrett 

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Paper binding, 30 cents ; cloth, 50 cents. 

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By Phine&s Garrett 

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jfmertalxuszexit Boo*** ior Young Peopm 

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Fsper binding, 30 cents ; cloth, 50 cents. 

^H& PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 
023 Arch Street, Philadelphia 



Entertainment Books for young PeopH 

Special Day Exercise*/* 

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Christmas Selections 

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For Readings and Recitations 

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Holiday Selections 

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For Readings and Recitations 

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THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 
£23 Arch Street, Philadelphia 



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